Paying the Debt
by Ydream08
Summary: *Abandoned*Rotting away in the Malfoy Manor, what Thorfinn Rowle expected last was to be saved by Potter whom he had been tasked to deliver to the Dark Lord. Thorfinn knew only one way to repay his debt to Potter: Pull him through the war alive. Thorfinn couldn't have known that, post-war, this bond with him and Potter would provide chances of flirtatious banter with Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

 **Summary:** Abandoned in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor, what Thorfinn Rowle expected last was to be saved by Harry Potter, the boy whom he had been tasked some time ago to deliver to the Dark Lord personally. Thorfinn knew only one way to repay his debt to Potter: Pull him through this war alive. Thorfinn couldn't have known that, post-war, this new-found bond with him and Potter would provide chances of flirtatious banter with one Hermione Granger. How much had one act of kindness changed his life!

* * *

Chapter 1

"Has it been an hour, Tony?" Thorfinn Rowle groaned. His stay in this damned place had gotten even worse today if it was possible.

Since his arrival, he had been chained to the wall, wearing his piss and shit, dried blood not only staining his clothes but it also covered his face. As sweat trickled down into his mouth, he tasted salt and copper.

Thorfinn had thought it couldn't have been worse than that. How daft he was!

"S'been more," the Russian man wheezed out. In the last visit they received, the Crucio that hit Tony had done more than leaving him spasming on the floor. Having been through the same session, albeit from the baby Malfoy's hand, Thorfinn hadn't thrashed around so much as Tony, resulting in cracked ribs for the Russian. Ever since hearing that awful sound of bones shattering, Thorfinn didn't miss the man talking with meager words. Three words at best.

"Fuck the bitch," Thorfinn growled this time. "The girl won't last if this continues."

He was getting sick of hearing that Gryffindor girl scream. It sounded no different from the wails of a street dog kicked around while looking for a scrap of food.

He was sure he had sounded similar whilst in the same situation.

He and Antonin Dolohov had been rotting in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor for months now. They had failed their mission to capture Harry Potter and were Obliviated by that girl, the snotty Gryffindor underclassman. Bellatrix LeStrange had taken it upon herself to unlock their memories to learn about the Dark Lord's prey. It'd been a nightmare to be the bitch's plaything- she had revealed their memories on the fourth day, anyway. Since getting what she wanted from them, the bitch had only sporadically visited them. She would send her nephew every day, though. Baby Malfoy's flimsy Crucio compared to his aunt's, was a fresh breath of air for Thorfinn, and that was if the blond boy hadn't come down to vent while he maintained appearances.

Thorfinn was going to let baby Malfoy escape if he one day stumbled upon the wrong end of his wand.

Today, even the blond boy was absent. There had been a commotion which had woken up Thorfinn. He and Antonin were forgotten since the bitch had gotten her hands on some new people, Thorfinn had soon found out. Until the iron fence to the dungeons were closed after those idiots, locking them inside, Thorfinn hadn't known what exactly that commotion was about.

"Don't hurt her!"

"Take me instead!"

Thorfinn Rowle wouldn't have distinguished the male voices afterwards if the dunderheads hadn't desperately shouted various versions of, "Hermione". With their hint, he realized that the new residents of the dungeons were fucking Potter and one of the many Weasleys.

Making the unfortunate soul screaming beyond her lung capacity the so called brightest witch of her year, Hermione Granger.

Thorfinn had snorted at the revelation. He wouldn't have guessed the trio to be captured so early after having masterfully evaded him and Tony. Back in Hogwarts Thorfinn had heard about their near death experiences, also avoiding detention after breaking every damn rule in the book. Those last four years he had shared the same school with them had been taxing, not that he had many personal interactions with them. Every Slytherin had been sick of hearing the tales of Gryffindor's Golden Trio from Draco fucking Malfoy's sissy mouth. Thorfinn Rowle had been lucky to have graduated that year of the Triwizard Tournament. Blokes like Nott had had worse, being the git's classmate.

Looking back now, graduating that very year had been also quite unfortunate. With the return of Lord Voldemort, the recruiting had increased drastically and Thorfinn had been gullible at the time to accept the offer without second thoughts. Revenge for his parents, he had thought back at the time.

If he had known he would endure punishments from the cause he served that made death an alluring option, he wouldn't have gone down that route. It had taken him to be broken and tossed away not even by the Dark Lord himself to understand that he was just a pawn to them. His life that was his everything meant nothing to them. What did they and their flimsy cause mean to him, if that was the case?

His main reason for remorse might be less than savory, yet it was a fact that that thought he had been mulling over in his mind endlessly, has been the motivation for him cursing and planning to betray the person whom Thorfinn Rowle had once thought to be God.

He also regretted filling his brain with shite in his years in Hogwarts. He should have listened to that bratty Gryffindor girl when they had come across that one time back in his sixth year. She had given him one hell of a snippet of advice.

* * *

 _"I'm late, I'm late- I can't believe I'm late! Should have unwound it to an hour earlier. Class is about to start…"_

 _Thorfinn barely registered what the girl was saying. He knew that he shouldn't have seduced a seventh year Ravenclaw. From what he'd picked from her blabbering, the bint was going on about being late to class while he was kissing her senseless. His luck really sucked._

 _Biting the girl's plump lower lip, Thorfinn then shifted his attention to the blond girl's pretty neck. He trailed wet kisses to where he had loosened her tie and opened a few buttons of her shirt. He especially like kissing just where the swell of her breasts started; in between his kisses, he didn't forget to reassure the girl. He wanted her in his arms a bit longer, didn't he?_

 _"Baby, I'll make it worth being late,"-kiss-"You won't even," -kiss- "regret," -kiss- "that's what I'm saying."_

 _The girl wantonly moaned especially when Thorfinn sucked a rather delicate spot, he bit her right there for better measure. A small part of Thorfinn's feral mind registered that the moan he had drawn from the girl sounded different than when she had said that she was running late. He easily dismissed the thought as his hands found meaty round buttocks, he gave one of the cheeks a teasing squeeze._

 _He needed his release and he wasn't going to let the Ravenclaw go until they were both satiated. Screw her N.E.W.T.s. She hadn't been complaining this much when he had finally taken interest in the girl after her ogling of him for months._

 _"Who's there?" came a voice which didn't quite reach to Thorfinn's ears as he was now busy listening to their tongues lapping at each other. The sexy eagle had eaten chocolate pudding for lunch, it seemed._

 _Thorfinn Rowle first felt the force that knocked him across the hall, rather than hearing somebody shriek in disbelief and anger._

 _His back hit the wall so hard that his well-built muscles had a hard job cushioning him. He cursed his size only in moments like these. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, people said and they were damn right._

 _Shaking his head and blinking a few times, Thorfinn came into focus on the Ravenclaw. She stood by the alcove he had expertly trapped her in. Her skirt was hiked up, her tie was nowhere in sight while her shirt was open enough to reveal her green laced bra. Thorfinn smirked at the sight. His victory looked quite delicious, although she looked terrified with her hands clasped on her mouth._

 _Thorfinn's smirk froze on his face, though, when his vision was blocked by a set of legs in black woolen stockings. The intruder's skirt was longer than an average witch's, leaving Thorfinn disappointed even in this vantage point where he was sprawled on the cold tiles in misery._

 _Raising his eyes to meet with the brown eyes of one Gryffindor underclassmen, he puffed. He didn't want to deal with Malfoy's crush at the moment. He had been quite busy._

 _"This is the fifth time I've caught you up here, Rowle!" the lion shrieked. Thorfinn crossed his brows and averted his eyes, not in shame or anything. No mistake there. He was looking for the Ravenclaw -what was her name? Mary? Mendy? Melanie?- and hoping she hadn't left, he would return to her when he got rid of this Mudblood pest._

 _The Ravenclaw was gone, as expected. Close to where she had been, books had been scattered on the ground. Probably the Mudblood's, must have dropped them out of shock; Mendy would have collected her own books before fleeing._

 _Damn those Ravenclaws._

 _Thorfinn's agitation raised a notch. While he was distracted, as if the bitch hadn't ruined a nice snogging, she was going on about his indiscretion as well._

 _Damn Gryffindorks._

 _"-one more reason to drop Divination! Is this what I have to put up with to even go to the stupid class?" the curly haired girl was saying. She was shaking her head disapprovingly, her curls swayed and coiled around her neck. If it weren't for him, her hair was going to choke her._

 _That made Thorfinn smirk again, having eased into a better mood._

 _He would taunt the Gryffindork, and then he would catch up with Melanie so they could continue their session in a locked cupboard where they couldn't be bothered._

 _"-wipe that smirk off, you oaf! I've been working my arse off, just to learn even one piece of magic that could keep Harry alive considering how he likes to get in the way of the most notorious dead wizard. And you- you've been doing nothing but fool around! Whenever I see you you're kissing a different blond!"_

 _Sick of being yelled at by the girl, Thorfinn righted himself and stood up. He was greatly pleased by the immediate effect._

 _Towering over the petite witch, Thorfinn loomed over her with his most confident stance and his raised eyebrows mocked her when she sputtered and fell silent. Her scared doe eyes were crossed as he was now close to her where he stood._

 _"So observant, are we?" Thorfinn shot her way. "I bet you're crying this much 'cuz you know I won't look at you twice, Mudblood. You don't qualify from looks anyway, not blond you see…"_

 _The girl's eyes popped open and her mouth opened and closed a few times without forming any coherent words._

 _She finally decided on a shrill, "WHAT?"_

 _Thorfinn laughed, enjoying having left the smart-mouthed Granger speechless. How Malfoy had trouble shutting the girl up, Thorfinn could not fathom._

 _"That's irrelevant at the moment!" she added, moving her face to laugh in an awkward way that indicated she didn't like where he was directing the conversation, she was also slightly losing it. She continued, "If you're unaware, there is a murderer on the loose, Dementors freely roam in our campus and not to mention, just last year people were petrified-"_

 _"-Mudbloods were petrified, so?"_

 _The curly haired witch shot him a death glare and gritted her teeth before continuing. She had opened her mouth so wide to speak -as if her exaggerated gestures could be any indication of dominance- Thorfinn Rowle wondered how much of his length she could take in that pretty mouth of hers. That would also shut her up._

 _Only if she weren't a Mudblood…_

 _"Voldemort is making his move, and if you know anything about the previous war, you'd know that learning a few defensive spells would come in handy. It is not the time to lay with anything that walks on two feet. If you're eager to get yourself killed for being daft, or worse, expelled over openly engaging in sexual acts where teachers can out you, then do that far away from the corridors I use to get to my classes."_

 _Thorfinn sneered at that last comment._

 _"That would mean the whole castle, darling, unless you finally decide to live in the library," he bit back._

 _What would she know about the war, or the Dark Lord. She was a mere Mudblood. It had been, what, three years since she had been acquainted with the Wizarding world? She was scolding people with superficial knowledge, was she not?_

 _Thorfinn had lost his mother and father to the last war. He knew exactly what had happened back then. For once, he knew that Dumbledore's cunt army had killed his parents upon being tipped by a spy that the dark side would visit Potters and Longbottoms' houses to retrieve something important for the Dark Lord._

 _Mrs. LeStrange had explained to him and his brother, Eadric, how their parents had been assigned on the Longbottom's Manor with them. Before Bellatrix LeStrange could reach his parents, Longbottoms had already slayed them mercilessly._

 _Knowing that Mrs. LeStrange had tortured the Longbottoms into madness had somewhat eased Thorfinn Rowle's anger and lust for revenge, but it wasn't enough that it refrained him from morphing Thorfinn into Neville Longbottom's worst nightmare the moment the coward Gryffindor had set his foot inside Hogwarts._

 _Thorfinn Rowle had set his mind to extract revenge from those blood-traitors that had killed his parents. Their Muggle loving hearts were not noble enough to spare his parents- they didn't deserve to live. Yet, they were alive, albeit nuts._

 _It was an unjust world, they lived in._

 _So no, Mudblood Hermione Granger knew nothing about the Wizarding War._

* * *

Turns out, Thorfinn himself didn't know anything about the war either. Revenge had been an adequate motivator to have him join the Dark side, however the cost had been so great. First his younger brother, then his freedom. His parents may have served a right cause that suited their own agenda; even if their cause was the right one, Thorfinn wasn't going to accept it knowing that it damaged him more than enlightening him.

That time when Thorfinn insulted the Golden girl as a final say and gone on his merry way to not ponder over her words, was one of the biggest mistakes in his life.

A more powerful and solid shield he could have learned in his sixth or seventh year just like the Granger girl had advised, could have prevented his little brother from perishing away in front of Thorfinn's eyes.

Before Thorfinn could mourn his brother Eadric and locate his real murderer, which Thorfinn later realized was the Dark Lord and his crappy ideals, Thorfinn had been assigned along with Tony to capture Harry Potter.

He knew how that had turned out.

He's been suffering excruciatingly not only because they had failed to capture that damn Potter, but being Obliviated of his own memory of that incidence had lengthened his stay in the dungeons. That Granger girl was costing Thorfinn too much, and because LeStrange was set on killing the girl, he was not going to have the chance to confront her.

Thorfinn growled, knowing that his last thought was a sick and illogical one. The person to blame was not some scared young girl, or the crazy bitch who pointed her wand at him. The one to blame, who gave the commands and pushed people to the brink, making them do things they wouldn't normally do, was the Dark Lord. However, he was out of Thorfinn Rowle's league to blame.

Whenever Thorfinn thought of rebelling him, that very same thought echoed in his mind. He was powerless to defy that madman. Doing such a thing would for sure be his death sentence.

 _Am I not already dead? Dead whether the dark side wins or not?_

Thorfinn knew the harsh truth to answer that question.

"-Stop hurting her! Take me instead! You cowards, leave her alone!" kept yelling the ginger one. Thorfinn focused back from where his mind had wandered, and registered that the Weasley had kept on pleading. The boy had grown furious now, though, as Thorfinn noticed. Even his funny way of speaking -most of the Weasleys couldn't pronounce 'r's- had become trivial in the face of his anger. "When I get my hands on you, I swear…!"

"...my fault, my fault, dammit, it's my fault…" repeated another hysterical voice. Thorfinn would have laughed that he was seeing oh-so-amazing Potter go mad, but as the lithe girl's screams drummed in his ear, he saw no humour in this. She was holding her ground alright, but Thorfinn noticed that the girl was now silent longer than she kept screaming. That couldn't be good.

She would break, and the rest of that Golden Trio could do nothing about it.

 _The world is a cruel place,_ Thorfinn reminded himself. In his mind, a memory of when Eadric and himself raced on brooms played repeatedly. Thorfinn could hear his little brother's laughter as the blond boy swished past Thorfinn, taunting him for being a Slowpoke: "Finn, you won't be making it pro if your brother out flies you!"

He was gone. Thorfinn was all alone in this world. No brother, mother or father. Not even distant relatives he had shared more than blood. He was by himself, no one to care whether he lived or died. No one to return back to. No one worth struggling to hold on to life.

 _A cruel place, indeed_ , Thorfinn thought. He closed his eyes and swallowed, his chapped lips reminding him that it was still not so easy to depart from this world. If he decided to kill himself before the LeStrange bitch, starving himself wouldn't be a comfortable way out of this mess.

As much of a coward he was to actually try to starve himself to death, Thorfinn Rowle wanted nothing else than to live. If nobody was there to have his back, he would have himself. He would hold onto his dear life because Thorfinn would protect his own, himself first. That self-preservation instinct had aided him into getting in Slytherin.

It also helped him to be alert, only knowledge over his surroundings could get him out of this predicament.

So his hearing was keen when a fair and magical voice called out in the dark dungeons: "Harry?"

"Luna? LUNA!"

Potter's exclamation was followed by hurried conversation, the girl was mostly silent as she was much calmer than the legendary boy. However, Thorfinn felt something change in the air regardless. He couldn't name it, until...

"Dobby will help Mr. Potter!" came another voice. Thorfinn would know a house elf's voice anywhere.

 _Hope_ , Thorfinn realized, that was the reason for the welcome shift in the air. Thorfinn chuckled, it was a concept so foreign for him at the moment! 'Hope'!

Could they really escape?

"Dobby, how did you come here?" inquired Potter, as puzzled as he was.

Thorfinn didn't catch the answer but a moment later, a loud pop had echoed in the cold cells. Following that, hushed sentences slithered to Thorfinn's sharp ears but he was unable to clearly distinguish any words.

Just when he was straining his ear to hear something, Antonin started a coughing fit next to him. Thorfinn saw the man convulsing through each breath, his gaunt frame collapsing on itself even though the chains restrained him. When the Russian man threw his head backwards, his fit having ceased, Thorfinn noticed the red tint in the man's saliva. Tony's long dark brown hair that clung to his wet skin somewhat obscured his face, but Thorfinn was sure of what he saw.

"Salazar help us," Thorfinn pleaded under his breath, his companion might not make it to the time when the Dark Lord forgave them- if he would at all.

"Who's there?" called the now-familiar voice of Harry Potter. Thorfinn cursed, he couldn't help it. He wasn't ready to be Avada'd by the Boy-who-lived. He was defenseless for Merlin's sake! His life was on the line, and the only wandless magic Thorfinn knew was to strip someone of their clothes- ladies preferably. Not that his ingenious skill would help him in this case.

Fuck.

"Luna hadn't mentioned anyone," came the reply of Weasley. Thorfinn wanted to snort, but he refrained from doing so as the footsteps were coming closer. What the fuck should he do?

He didn't get the chance to decide on his course of action as Antonin Dolohov rocked with another fit of uncontrollable coughing. He breathed heavily eventually, having somewhat recovered. But it was already too late.

A light -unlike a Lumos or a torch- illuminated their faces, Thorfinn's eyes narrowed as a reaction. Tony wheezed pathetically to show his discomfort, but his protest only made the light source move specifically to him.

Since Thorfinn was no longer blinded by the damn lighter -it looked like one in Weasley's hand-, he had the chance to take in Weasley and Potter. Disgust and pity were written all over their faces respectively.

"What are you guys doing here?" Potter played daft, or he was indeed, if his question was anything to go by.

Thorfinn snorted, and this time he wasn't going to pass up the chance to answer that question. "We were taking our five o'clock tea. Mind joining us?"

"These guys attacked us back at that cafe!" Weasley stated ignoring Thorfinn's snide comment. He only now recognized them.

Rowle rolled his eyes. He was offended that he wasn't known to be their senior alumni from Hogwarts. Mudblood Granger wouldn't forget him. Would she?

 _Perhaps she wouldn't recognize me in this get up_ , Thorfinn mused and a bitter smile graced his lips. Eadric wouldn't recognize him either.

Thorfinn's toned muscles and strong build were gone now since he's been eating rotten food at best, and that was when they were giving any at all. His beard reached past his sternum; Thorfinn was paying back for having mocked Dumbledore's beard back in his teenager days. His skin had darkened a tone because of dirt and grease covering it. He doubted he even had any shine in his light blue eyes. That and his striking thick blond mane which were the signature of the Rowles, would hardly help getting identified as well.

"You've been here since we last saw you."

It was a statement, what Potter had said.

Thorfinn dropped his gaze, unable to look at the Boy-who-lived in the eye while his best friend was tortured upstairs. If Thorfinn Rowle and Antonin Dolohov had accomplished their task, the boy would have been here long ago. The girl would be tortured all the same- perhaps even got raped and killed by now, since Thorfinn doubted LeStrange would keep her alive if the girl hadn't acquired intel she obviously had this time around. Last but not least, the ginger one would be offered salvation in the shape of joining the dark side. His pure blood line giving him a tiny chance of survival, and that would happen only after LeStrange got her wand around him.

So no, Thorfinn Rowle didn't have the face to look at Potter and plead him for his life. His Slytherin side nudged Thorfinn to do so, but just as well, his snake pride had chained his tongue.

Thorfinn wouldn't have saved Potter if the roles were reversed, even if the boy pleaded him for hours. That's why, Thorfinn knew better than to hope.

"Bloody hell," Weasley muttered, but before Potter could reply in any sense, another pop echoed in the dungeons.

"Dobby has returned, Mr. Potter," the house elf declared his arrival. "Luna, the goblin and the wand maker are safe."

"Let's go, Harry," Weasley muttered to Potter. Having lowered his lighter, the dim light concealed the two Death Eater as though they weren't there. "We need to get Hermione, and get the hell out of here."

"Wait-" Potter said, releasing his arm from Weasley's grip. "We can't leave them here."

Thorfinn saw the bespectacled boy chance a second glance at their way, but his determined eyes quickly set on Weasley's.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Weasley shot back. He wasn't whispering like Potter. Thorfinn could give him that, the bloke was open and honest. "They are Death Eaters, for Godric's sake! They tried to kill us that time- they'd try a second time! This is war, Harry. We don't Stupefy people, we kill them. How do you think I avoided all those Snatchers while I was away from you and Hermione? Out there, the war wages on full force- we don't have the luxury to save fucking killers."

"We don't know whether they are killers-"

"They attempted to kill us- kill YOU!"

"We're alive, aren't we? But in any case, it is not up to us to decide what happens to them!" Potter exclaimed and the duo fell silent, breathing heavily. Thorfinn was awestruck, and he watched them without a heartbeat. _Perhaps…?_

"I wouldn't have Sirius with me today, if people had killed him without giving him a fair trial."

"They didn't give him a fair trial," Weasley interjected.

"Hence, why I've been only spending time with him since our third year," Potter countered. "War or no war. We can't leave them here like this."

Another pause, then Weasley breathed out, "Whatever, do what you want."

"Dobby?" Potter called out, then gave instructions to the house elf. Thorfinn didn't hear a word he said as he only focused on the receding footsteps of Weasley who had lost the argument.

Thorfinn couldn't believe what he had heard. Harry fucking Potter had backed him up against his very best friend. Harry Potter, the boy Thorfinn had been sent to capture and bring back to the Dark Lord for his execution, wanted to save him.

He didn't deserve this. Thorfinn Rowle didn't deserve such kindness. He had attempted to capture the boy! What was Potter thinking, saving him?

Thorfinn realized then that Harry Potter wanted to save him because that was who he was. He was conscientious, felt responsible for those in need. He seemed like a person to believe in second chances. Just like his brother Eadric had been. Thorfinn had said to his brother that time as well, how foolish his decision had been.

Thorfinn itched to tell Potter the same.

His own brother had been stabbed in the back by his best friend after he had given him a second chance. Eadric's friend had wronged him once, and apologized, leaving no doubt to Eadric that it wouldn't happen a second time. His younger brother had been a bloody loyal Hufflepuff as always, dismissing Thorfinn's cautions since it brought suspicion over his dear friend.

The friend wronged him the second time, and now Eadric was dead.

Thorfinn didn't want Potter to have the same fate. He had lost his Eadric, and Potter was even younger than his own brother. Eadric hadn't deserved to be wronged by a person to whom he had given a another shot at life.

Potter didn't deserve that either.

Feeling the chains around his wrists click open, Thorfinn Rowle heard Potter call past his shoulder: "Come back after you leave them at the safe house, Dobby. We'll be waiting for you!"

Thorfinn watched as Harry Potter's slender figure vanished after Weasley through the iron gates. He dropped his gaze to the small house elf and then to his unchained wrists.

Potter deserved better, and Thorfinn Rowle was going to pay him back as he deserved. Thorfinn would have Potter's back until his dying breath for he owed the boy a life debt.

Eadric had deserved the same, but Thorfinn could do nothing to change the past. His brother was gone. However, his own saviour Harry Potter was very much alive. Thorfinn was going to keep it like that.

Rubbing his wrists to relieve the soreness, Thorfinn Rowle tried his legs. Standing up and walking would be a nice change. Before he could do that though, the house elf and Antonin's bickering caught Thorfinn's attention.

"I will not betray my Lord! I've disappointed him, I deserve this. If he hears that I escaped he-"

"Mr. Potter wishes to save you. Dobby wants to serve Mr. Potter. You make it hard to serve Mr. Potter!"

Thorfinn felt a headache surging in his already heavy head. So this is when Antonin can talk more than a few words? When his precious sadistic Lord is concerned?

"We'll die here, you tosser. You've got a death wish?" Thorfinn barked. The house elf -Dobby- nodded its head and put its balled fists on its hips.

Dobby added, "Mister is right. Harry Potter has a good heart, wanting to save you. Don't want to die? Then hear Harry Potter's wishes!"

Antonin laughed, his broken ribs restrained the action so he coughed afterwards, yet what he said was easy to distinguish nevertheless: "Screw him! Nobody understands me better than my Lord. He values me, my mind and creativity. I will not betray him!"

Thorfinn's now had enough. He knew that Tony had his own reasons to serve the Dark Lord, but he wasn't going to stand in Thorfinn's way to freedom. He already had so little.

He punched the Russian man, and knocked him out.

"That's taken care of, isn't it?" Thorfinn muttered, he shot a grin in Dobby's way. "We can go now." As an afterthought he added, "Or we could leave him here? It's what he wants." Thorfinn shrugged.

The house elf was quite shocked at the brutal way Thorfinn had hushed Antonin. Yet, it looked more anxious than shocked.

"No. Harry Potter asked me to take you and Mister. Dobby will do as Mr. Potter asks. He is Dobby's friend."

Thorfinn nodded, thinking it wasn't worth arguing. Tony could perhaps think straight if he was freed, fed and healed.

Shouldering Antonin Dolohov's weight, Thorfinn nodded again to Dobby, "Ready."

Dobby was just about to grab a hold of Thorfinn and Disapparate them away when a heartbreaking shout was heard.

"NO, HERMIONE!"

Dobby's head shot in the direction of the gates. "Harry Potter!"

Thorfinn Rowle watched in amazement as the house elf's expression morphed into one of determination, "Harry Potter needs Dobby."

Before Thorfinn could say a word, Dobby Disapparated them with a loud crack.

Opening his eyes to the drawing room of the Malfoy Manor, Thorfinn quickly assessed the situation. They were making a stop on their way to freedom, it seemed. And it was a die or live stop. How wonderful.

Scanning the room, Thorfinn noted that Ron Weasley had just thrown away Mr. Malfoy high up in the air, after yelling, "Alarte Ascendare!".

Wasn't that Lockhart's spell? Thorfinn had been there in the Dueling lesson between Snape and Lockhart back during his fifth year, he had gone there out of curiosity. It wasn't everyday that you get the chance to see your Head of House duel.

He had watched as Lockhart pathetically tried to get rid of the snake with the very same spell Weasley had used a second ago. It appeared the man hadn't been that useless after all.

Not everyone had the upper hand like Weasley had, though. It seemed like this was his second duel even. In the corner of the room, Thorfinn noticed the long blond hair sprayed on the ground, the woman belonging to it unmoving while baby Malfoy crouched next to her. From the relieved tone of the Malfoy heir repeating, "Mother," Thorfinn deduced that the woman was not dead. The person who had done this had to be Weasley.

Potter was quite occupied, being less fortunate than him. He faced off Bellatrix LeStrange.

The vile woman was using Hermione Granger like a shield. Potter had his wand raised, but because of Granger's situation, no spell came out of it. He didn't want to hit Granger, but just as he didn't strike, Bellatrix LeStrange kept her ground.

Hermione shed silent tears as she was trapped in the bitch's grasp. Every time LeStrange moved -even to breathe- Hermione whimpered. That little action seemed to give the witch great pain as her pale face scrunched, beads of sweat had formed on her forehead.

Granger was also covered in blood. Thorfinn couldn't even see her fair skin in her exposed left forearm as it was all stained in red. But Thorfinn noticed that that wasn't the only place bleeding. Granger's abdomen, toward the right where Bellatrix's hand rested, oozed of thick blood. The stain was spreading with every passing second.

Before Thorfinn could register what was happening, his eyes bulged upon hearing Granger gasp. LeStrange had removed her hand from Granger's abdomen, along with the dagger she held tightly in her closed fist.

The bitch cackled as if there was something funny about this. Thorfinn had long ago concluded that she had lost it, but now that he was truly free, he had no intention of turning a blind eye to it.

 _That's why Potter yelled_ , Thorfinn understood now. The bitch had stabbed Granger.

"Let her go, or else…!" Weasley switched his attention to them, but before he could finish his threat the smooth silver dug into new unmarked flesh.

"Look at yourselves! A mudblood giving you this much headache? You're pathetic!" LeStrange spat. She twisted the dagger; Granger cried out, but wasn't able to do anything.

Potter seemed to have snapped out of his horror, and sent a spell in LeStrange's way. The spell sizzled just above Granger shoulder, not even tangent to LeStrange.

Having lost the last bit of her sanity, the bitch smirked and took the dagger out, she placed the bloodied dagger in Granger's throat.

Thorfinn clenched his teeth, nothing else he could do to help Granger.

"Drop your wands!" Lestrange yelled. "Malfoy collect them!"

Thorfinn watched as baby Malfoy sat next to his mother, motionless, his eyes still looked at her.

"NOW!"

Bellatrix's shrill scream made the baby Malfoy jump. He quickly scampered up from the floor and dived in for the wands of Weasley and Potter where they had dropped them.

Just as baby Malfoy rose, a force hit his hand, freeing the wands, and then he was thrown backwards to where his father was.

Potter and Weasley hadn't moved. Malfoys were incapacitated, and Bellatrix's hands were full, not that she would have attacked Malfoy.

It was the elf, Thorfinn understood. He, himself, was as good as a Muggle, barely standing up.

Others had come to the same conclusion, as there was a tense moment in which people realized Dobby and Thorfinn's presence. Thorfinn was just next to Potter, Weasley at the other side. Beneath their feet lied the unconscious Antonin Dolohov.

Dobby was nowhere to be seen now.

All of a sudden the silence was filled with a noise that resembled...grinding? Thorfinn realized it was the grinding of the chandelier's chains which attached it to the ceiling, and everybody looked up to see the little house-elf loosening those very chains.

Bellatrix LeStrange was the last one to slowly lift her head to see that the chandelier insecurely swayed thanks to the tampering of Dobby.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Dobby vanished. LeStrange shoved Granger. Thorfinn caught her.

Chandelier crashed.

The sound of glass shattering into millions of pieces echoed in Thorfinn's ears as Hermione Granger blacked out in his arms.

* * *

 **Hello there!**

 **Here is another new story. I extensively planned it to be nine chapters, but I haven't finished writing it like I had done with _Rescuing the Senior_. One of the reasons for that is that I'm quite impatient in nature and this surely hadn't been intended to be a one-shot. This will be a short story, however, I estimate each chapter to be more or less this long, so it will be long enough I guess.**

 **A round of applause to my fantastic beta, _Irish Thorn_! She's been a huge help, tweaking the chapter here and there. Thank you so much!**

 **I hope you've liked the chapter! Be sure to let me know what you think :)**

 **~Ydream08**


	2. Chapter 2

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

Chapter 2

"Starving yourself isn't smart, you know," Thorfinn whispered while eyeing Potter from the corner of his eyes. He knew that he had no right to say it, but he couldn't help himself. This was the second week that they were spending in the safe house, and with every passing day that Hermione Granger did not open her eyes, Potter seemed to eat less and less. Not to mention, the boy hadn't even been right ever since burying Dobby, the house elf that had saved them.

Thorfinn easily recognized when someone was broken, he was familiar with the emotion himself.

Seeing Potter shrug and turn his face away, Thorfinn felt the need to comfort him, but he didn't know what to say. Potter had been decent to him ever since coming here, one more reason to admire the boy. Potter was reluctant to speak, sure, but he had been diligent that Tony and himself were treated well. He also broke up fights when it came down to it. Often did Weasley turn a ridiculous shade of red whenever he spotted the Death Eaters. The hatred radiating from the boy was palpable, especially upon spotting Tony. It was purely Thorfinn's foolishness that he picked a fight with the ginger at such occasions, giving Potter no choice but to interfere.

Thorfinn didn't know what Weasley's problem with Antonin Dolohov was, but he was getting suspicious that the ginger's hatred was spreading. Thorfinn was getting his share of arguments with him for no good reason, lately even more so than Tony.

Most of the arguments with Weasley broke out when the dunderhead snuck up on him while Thorfinn checked Granger's progress.

She always slept like the dead. If it were not for the hardly noticed slight rise and fall of her chest, Thorfinn would have thought her to be already gone.

Today had been no different. Before coming down to eat lunch with Potter, Thorfinn had visited Granger.

There was more colour to her ashen face, Thorfinn had concluded after half an hour of observation. Her cuts over her face and arms -the only places visible that weren't covered by blankets- were healed and only light traces were left. Thorfinn couldn't see from where he stood by the doorway (the last argument with Weasley had been about how close Thorfinn had been to Granger during his last visit), but the superficial cut on her throat left by Bellatrix's damned blade must have healed.

He prayed it had healed.

Granger's left arm was still covered in bandages, so a meek voice in his head said the one on her throat might not have healed. Thorfinn had marred his brows, thinking of the two other knife wounds left by that bitch. They were bandaged as well, he supposed, by that Veela Delacour, Triwizard Champion of Beauxbatons. The witch and Professor Lupin both had reassured everyone that Granger was fine but needed time to rest, and Thorfinn had trusted their judgement, having eavesdropped at their announcement from where he had been hidden at the time.

Granger would heal, they had said. Thorfinn had a hard time believing it when she looked so thin and sick. Her cheeks hollowed and her unresponsive.

Thorfinn shook his head, wanting to rid the image of Granger so out of shape from his mind. That was this morning, but unfortunately, he doubted she had gotten better in the several hours that lead to noon.

"I don't feel like eating," Potter mumbled, he had even given up playing with his food. Thorfinn followed his green eyes and stopped at the window that viewed the small hill on which the house-elf was buried.

Thorfinn stroked his smooth cheeks with one hand -after a bath, the first thing he had done was to shave- and thought that this mustn't continue any longer. He would have forced food down Eadric's mouth by now, surely, he could do the same to Potter if he left no choice to Thorfinn.

"Quit it," Thorfinn said, dropping his kitchenware in a clattering noise. "He didn't die so that you can starve yourself to death. Wouldn't he have brought you a cake or something if he were to see you like this?"

Thorfinn knew for one thing that his own house-elf Dammy would have done exactly that.

Thorfinn used to be a hyperactive and impish boy even at the young age of five. He clearly recalled a memory from when his parents were alive; Thorfinn had wanted to surprise his parents and decided to climb the one story distance from his bedroom window to theirs. It was not his fault that their wing of the Rowle Castle ultimately begged to be climbed. Upon hearing the tap on their window and finding their little Finnie as its source, Leone Rowle had gone off the handle. Of course, after pulling Thorfinn inside.

During the three days long punishment which hadn't prevented Thorfinn from climbing the ancient concentric castle in the future, Dammy popped in and out of Thorfinn's room. If not for the sole purpose of spending time with her baby Finnie, it was to give him a piece of the many sweets she cooked.

Thorfinn's cute, honey eyed house-elf wouldn't have let Thorfinn starve himself, not even over her death, so he doubted Dobby was happy where ever he was, with Potter's current predicament.

"I'm telling you again, Potter, not smart, what you do," Thorfinn repeated himself. "Eat, sleep and kill that madman. You've got few responsibilities, surely the Boy-Who-Lived can handle that."

Oddly, Potter's face brightened with a small smile. "Yeah, sure, it's nothing compared to how hard it is to duel Lockhart. I don't need to be Snape to finish him."

Thorfinn snorted, liking that Potter's sarcasm was jolting him awake.

"You've got that right! Didn't the Best-Smiles teach you a trick or two?" Thorfinn added.

The two males sitting at the table sniggered, but in a few minutes they both fell into a heavy silence.

Thorfinn did not dare to speak, unable to disclose his intention of switching sides. He was not afraid of rejection, knowing that nobody could deter him from his newly chosen path, but the last thing he wanted was to be ridiculed and doubted because of what his Dark Mark signified.

Potter, Thorfinn guessed, was silent because of thinking how hopeless it was to defeat the Dark Lord. Thorfinn couldn't blame the kid. He was amazed that Potter had even managed to get this far.

Thorfinn didn't know whether Potter could take down Lord Voldemort and he was not going to overthink the odds, because the result of the battle did not affect him.

Thorfinn Rowle would protect Harry Potter, and wouldn't let him perish before he did while protecting him.

Suicide mission. That was what Thorfinn Rowle had decided upon. Yet he hadn't had second thoughts about it ever since being freed from Malfoy Manor.

He became even more determined the few times Thorfinn saw the ghost of his own brother Eadric in Potter. They both drank their teas with no sugar, showered in the mornings and had a habit of messing with their hairs in an oddly similar manner. Those moments, Thorfinn would mistake Harry Potter's raven hair for Eadric's dirty blond, his green eyes for Eadric's blue ones, and his lightning-bolt scar to Eadric's own longitudinal scar that started on his forehead and ended just below his left eye.

If Potter were to wear the Hufflepuff headband Eadric used to never tire of, Thorfinn would have thought Eadric to be resurrected.

"We need to find something," Potter blurted out all of a sudden. He still looked away so Thorfinn couldn't determine his motive for sharing this bit of information, but Thorfinn was pleased regardless.

"Find something?" Thorfinn asked, thinking hard. The boy was at a loss at what to do, Thorfinn guessed, and he was desperate enough to ask a Death Eater, knowing full well that Thorfinn could pass it on to the Dark Lord if he got to escape-when he got to escape, or so Potter should be assuming.

"Don't you know what to find or where to find it?" Thorfinn mused out loud. Thinking back to Bellatrix LeStrange's extensive interrogation on Hermione, Thorfinn could swear Potter must know the answer to at least one of his questions. "You must know something. LeStange doesn't pick a favorite for nothing. She would have taken you instead of Granger, if it were for the kicks."

Potter raised his gaze so quickly that he startled Thorfinn.

"I don't-" Potter started to say but Thorfinn interfered. He was now leaning to the back of his chair, arms crossed in the front while looking dead in the eye at Potter.

"You do. Do you think Granger would be like that if it were not the case?" Thorfinn shot back. "Sure, the girl resisted, did one hell of job with it. But LeStange took her sweet time with her, instead of summoning the Dark Lord right away at the prospect of finding you. A few boys in your build were dead in the dungeons because the bitch always tried her chance. Fortunate that none of them were you."

Seeing that Potter had paled, and looked as though he could throw up, Thorfinn shrugged. These were the truths, regardless of how hard it was to hear them. But if Potter didn't want to be… _distracted,_ well, Thorfinn could oblige.

"Granger knows something," Thorfinn tried again. Potter had to think, and Thorfinn could help him do just that. "Something that made LeStrange go berserk. You can't think of anything?"

Potter shook his head but Thorfinn pressed on.

"Anything? You didn't kill her men? Kidnap her loyal hounds? Make a ruckus in the Snatcher's place? Steal something from her? Nothing?"

"We didn't do anything like that. We've been trying to-" Potter's voice died out and the crease in his brows relaxed.

"The sword, Bellatrix was asking about the sword," Potter said. His face looked bright, as if the holy light had dawned on him. Everything clicked, it seemed. "We didn't steal anything- we honestly didn't, but she thought… she thought we stole the sword! I heard her asking Hermione when her… screams died out."

"Confirm with her, won't you, Harry?" said a new voice.

Both Thorfinn and Potter turned to see Remus Lupin standing by the doorway to the kitchen. He looked worn out and older than his forty years. He had new scars on his face, at least as far as Thorfinn had noticed ever since seeing him. The man had changed; Thorfinn wouldn't have recognized his sixth year DADA professor if they had come across elsewhere.

Elsewhere would have been most likely in the war if it were not for Potter. They would be on opposite sides no less, so Thorfinn wouldn't have given much thought to the professor in that case.

"Professor, you mean…!" Potter whispered, his eyes popped open in shock.

Thorfinn warred with himself not to mimic the smile plastered on the older man's face.

"Haven't I told you already, that I'm not your professor. Call me Remus, and yes, Hermione is awake. Ron is already with her," Lupin told Potter.

Thorfinn could swear that he heard the crash of the chair first, rather than seeing Potter dash out of the room, calling out, "Hermione!" on every step.

"Rowle, heading out?" Lupin said, eyebrows raised.

Thorfinn blinked, discerning what the man was trying to say. Realizing that he was on his feet, Thorfinn clenched his jaw. He was about to go as well.

"No," Thorfinn finally decided on saying and slowly sat back at his seat. His own wasn't turned upside down like Potter's.

Lupin slightly raised his chin, "Huh." Quirking his eyebrows again, he shook his head before leaving the room.

Thorfinn didn't give him any mind after that.

He stared down at the remains of his porridge in the silence of the room. _What now?_ he thought. The Golden Trio was up and functioning again, and Thorfinn wasn't sure where that left him.

Eating a spoonful of porridge, Thorfinn decided, for once, to not think about the troubles. He was not going to find a solution anyhow. Instead he listened to his growling stomach and wished he could down two bowls of sauced pasta. However, he didn't have his old appetite, his delicate stomach having newly adapted to even eating porridge. Lucky him.

Considering that his current conditions were such a leap from the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor, Thorfinn guessed he could at least be grateful. And he indeed was, but today, Tony had gone out of his way to remind Thorfinn that this paradise couldn't continue any longer. One more thing Thorfinn tried his hardest not to ponder on.

* * *

" _We're doing nothing."_

 _Thorfinn startled at Antonin Dolohov's voice. He wasn't expecting company while checking on Granger._

" _Aside from healing, yes, we're doing nothing." Thorfinn shrugged, he didn't remove his eyes from the lying brunette witch. "Oh, but, we weren't doing even that two weeks ago."_

" _You know what I mean," the Russian man hissed._

" _Yeah," Thorfinn snorted, "I do know. Unlike you."_

 _Seeing the confused but affronted look on Tony's face, Thorfinn reached for the handle of Granger's door and closed it._

" _You underestimate me, Thor," Tony gritted out._

 _When Thorfinn indicated they move on from the front of the girl's room, Antonin didn't budge a muscle at first, but stared at him long and hard._

 _Then he walked, Thorfinn alongside him. "You're falling for their lies, Thor. Just because they've fed you and healed you doesn't mean you aren't a prisoner here."_

 _Thorfinn cocked an eyebrow, on the verge to retort back that the dark side was no different. Surely, he and Tony hadn't been the honorary guests of Malfoy Manor._

 _Tony shook his head. "They win and you're shipped off to Azkaban regardless; our Lord wins and you are dead. This is what you are deciding on right now, sobrat*! Don't be a fool."_

" _Tony-"_

" _Listen," Antonin cut him. "Your doubts are baseless. I've served our Lord for longer years and he has yet to disappoint."_

 _Thorfinn bit his tongue, he didn't want to press on this subject. He knew that Tony was sensitive when it came to this. His Lord had provided Tony a life the Russian man had sought for so long._

" _He will reward you. He will reward_ us _!" Tony exclaimed, indicating the both of them with his index finger._

 _He opened both of his arms and urged Thorfinn to look around to better emphasize his point. "See all this? This hideout Harry Potter is safely tucked away in? All there is left for us to do is to wrap the gift and present it to the Dark Lord!"_

So much for changing Tony's mind _, Thorfinn thought but felt a pang of hurt at the notion of betraying his old friend. Thorfinn had been a Death Eater for three years, but he knew Antonin earlier than that. He was fifteen years older than Thorfinn, and was there when Bellatrix LeStrange had told Thorfinn and Eadric about the truth of their parents' deaths._

 _Tony had been the uncle Thorfinn never had, and sooner rather than later, he had become his older brother._

 _Even though they didn't see eye to eye at the moment, Thorfinn had no doubt that Antonin saw him in the same familial light as Thorfinn had seen Eadric._

 _However, the difference was that Thorfinn was old enough to be entitled to his own opinions. And it was time to stand by them._

" _Think about it," Antonin whispered. Thorfinn stared back at his searching eyes; only the regret of turning down a dear friend and thus separating their ways, shone in his own blue eyes._

 _Antonin shook his head, refusing the obvious decline. He grabbed Thorfinn's shoulder, and with his other hand clapped on to the left side of his chest._

" _Think!"_

* * *

Thorfinn cleaned his empty bowl. How much he wished for this nightmare to end! He could easily admit everyday that his agonizing time in Malfoy Manor hadn't been a pain in his arse like his days in this safe-house.

Thorfinn was not an ally of the light side. People here who fought for that cause, saw him as nothing but a burden. A burden that consumed their healing potions and salves, their food and time all the while invading their secure accommodation. Thorfinn didn't doubt that having him and Tony was also a mental-strain on everybody else living here. Housing Death Eaters could be a joke at best, as young Weasley often pointed out.

Dark side was no longer an option either, Thorfinn knew. Not because they would put a prize on his head eventually with his brilliant plan of shielding Potter, but because Thorfinn had concluded long ago that he wouldn't pursue their ideals anymore. There were enough deaths in his hands. Not many were there that he personally ended, but Thorfinn had sat there at the Malfoy's dining table and listened as the orders were dictated, doing nothing. Heck, he'd been there when Professor Burbage had been swallowed whole and alive by that nasty snake.

The woman had been barmy, sure, but Thorfinn hadn't once seen her enforce her thoughts on anyone. Not to mention, her lesson was an _elective_. The only conversation Thorfinn had had with her had been morning pleasantries, and truth be told, she had been a debonair woman even in the morning.

Granger was like that also. Oh, Merlin forbid, the Mudblood had never been a morning person; a snarl on her pretty face whenever Thorfinn had seen her in the Great Hall for breakfast. Interestingly, for someone who hated the sunshine so much, she would always be sitting at the Gryffindor table six in the morning just around when Thorfinn left to his Quidditch practices.

No, the Gryffindor princess was similar to Professor Burbage in the way that both were quite reserved and harmless. You wouldn't see any of them striking a debate of blood based prejudice with people who had no heart to bother with them or had any business with them. Unlike Malfoy, they wouldn't go around spouting insults about what they thought about some people; and naturally, they wouldn't set to kill those who disagreed with them.

Also, thinking back now, Burbage had never even handpicked Slytherins and forced them to attend Muggle Studies how Thorfinn knew Snape had picked Hufflepuffs. It was known that Puffs avoided potions if it was not absolutely necessary. Thorfinn could bet it was because Snape taught the class, so he had to admit that it was ironic that Snape himself forced a small lot of them to attend.

If it were not for this mess the Dark Lord led, Thorfinn doubted he would have his paths crossed with either Burbage or Granger. Thorfinn would have married some pureblood witch, played Quidditch and lived his life as far away from those with lesser bloods- those who were not his fans- as possible.

Thorfinn would have turned a blind eye to the Mudblood problem the Dark Lord insisted on vanquishing; Thorfinn had been dealing with that problem, and here was where it brought him.

Sighing, Thorfinn turned off the tap and put the clean dishes aside.

He really was set on severing his ties with the Dark side, but even if the Light side was capable of winning, Thorfinn could never be a part of it. He didn't agree that Muggle-borns should be annihilated, but he wasn't comfortable with their existence in the wizarding world either.

Overall it didn't sit right with him, to put his life in danger for something he didn't believe in.

These three years, Thorfinn had changed. Losing his brother Eadric had finalized that this change was permanent. He didn't even feel the fire of revenge over having lost his parents to the war.

This was it.

From today on Thorfinn would live only for himself. For his safety and comfort.

Well, he would if he survived the war while protecting Potter; fat chance of that. Then, Thorfinn Rowle would flee England and start over somewhere else with a brand new name. He would never again get mixed up with such problematic political disputes.

As a fugitive he could be found in France easily; most purebloods had relatives there.

 _Perhaps Turkey?_

Sean Abbot had invited him to their summer house there after the final Quidditch game back in Hogwarts. Thorfinn doubted that the offer would stand, but nobody would think to find him there.

"Excusez-moi, Monsieur Rowle?" A silky voice pulled Thorfinn out of his thoughts. "Have you seen my husband, Bill? Red hair, with scars?"

Thorfinn turned around to see the Veela by the door. She looked anxious, and her distress was contagious.

Thorfinn shook his head. "Haven't seen him today."

The woman's eyes darted around the kitchen as though Thorfinn could be masterfully hiding Bill Weasley somewhere. The oven was not such a nice fit for the wolfish man.

"Is something wrong?" Thorfinn dared to ask, he hated the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Non, everything's just fine," Delecour replied, shaking her head. Such an obvious lie. "He should be around here somewhere."

Her golden hair vanished after her, and Thorfinn was left in the middle of the kitchen with a horrible hunch that there was something definitely wrong.

Thorfinn hadn't seen Antonin since that morning. Where was he, now that Thorfinn thought about it?

He rushed out of the kitchen, searching every room while repeating the tosser's name. Something was not right. Bill Weasley and the Veela were inseparable; not to mention, Antonin had been off today. Their short chat had been a dead giveaway.

Failing to find his companion, Thorfinn tracked down the Veela. She was in the garden, sitting with Lupin and Loony.

"...I don't know where he could have gone. The house needs nothing, our stocks are enough for weeks!" the Veela fretted. Loony was stroking the blonde's back. Coming closer to the crowd, Thorfinn realized Delecour was somewhat crying.

"Rowle?" Lupin acknowledged him, indecisive whether he should say something else.

Thorfinn nodded to all of them, Lupin's acknowledgement having brought all of the attention to him. He was unsure of what to say. No, correction, he was unsure whether he should say this at all.

"Is Bill Weasley the Secret-keeper?" Thorfinn decided on asking. He didn't want it to be true, but there seemed no other explanation. If not, how could Dolohov disappear on his own?

"Why, yes," Delecour whispered, dread in her hollow voice.

"Antonin is gone," Thorfinn said. There was no mistake that the French witch had quickly caught up to Thorfinn's meaning.

When he next spoke there would be no dispute on the subject in question. "He'll come."

A heart-wrenching sob was stolen from Delacour's collapsing lungs; her right hand covering her mouth, the other resting on her belly.

Thorfinn wished he had never seen that.

Fuck. This was bad.

"Don't worry," Loony said, her voice as magical as from when Thorfinn had heard her in the dungeons. She consoled the French witch. "Bill will be home."

Delecour removed her hand and wheezed as she struggled to talk. "They'll kill him!"

"They will," Thorfinn declared, ultimately turning Delacour into a crying mess.

Thorfinn grimaced at the sound of her voice, but this had to wait.

"Disapparate," Thorfinn ordered everyone. Lupin was the only one available to be shocked by his authoritative tone.

"Disapparate!" Delacour repeated after Thorfinn, somewhat toning down her crying to Thorfinn's utter surprise. "Bill warned me. If this were to ever happen… Disapparate… He- he warned me. But I can't! Not without him!"

Thorfinn knew what he'd do before coming here, but still, he was distraught by how much Eadric's Hufflepuff traits had rubbed on him: No one was to be left behind. Especially those whom Potter deemed valuable.

 _Even those back-stabbers,_ Thorfinn quipped in. He'd kill that betrayer with his own hands. Without magic.

Thorfinn shook his head, and took a deep breath. His suicide mission seemed to be on the table closer than he had thought. Weasley had been a nice bloke. He used to be the captain of Quidditch team back when Thorfinn was a third year. That aside, it would be worth it to save a dad-to-be. Another reason he had been mulling this rescue mission in his head.

"Potter gets out of here now, alive," Thorfinn gritted out. He wanted them to be on the same page.

"Of course! We'd never kill Harry," Loony said as if Thorfinn had spouted nonsense. Oddly, she was reassuring.

Only now realizing Thorfinn's intention, Delacour took a hold of his forearm. How trivial it was to her that it was the left one; but for Thorfinn... "I'll come with you!"

"Are you nuts, woman?" Thorfinn barked at her, but Delacour seemed unfazed by his outburst. "You want to get yourself killed?"

Wasn't she thinking about her baby? Would it be wise to endanger both?

What bothered Thorfinn the most was that when the baby was born, if Delacour's rash decisions continued, it would be left without any of its parents.

"Let's plan this out. We might have a better chance if we go in together-"

"Numbers won't save you when you're up against the Dark Lord," Thorfinn cut Lupin who was getting ahead of himself. "I'm giving you the most sensible choice. You'll have two deaths in the worst case scenario. Take it or leave."

Lupin looked ready to protest, but Delacour shook her head. "He is right, we're not ready to fight him. Harry is not ready."

Turning back to Thorfinn, Delacour squeezed his forearm. "Bring him here! I'll wait for him! The rest can go before us."

"Fleur, you're not staying even if we agree to his proposition-" Lupin tried to say but the Veela shook her head more violently now.

"Bring him here. Where I go, he comes. I won't leave him behind. He wouldn't have left me."

"Your baby will want her daddy," Loony backed up Delacour and smiled sweetly at her. Nobody was inclined to question how she knew the gender.

There was a silence in which Thorfinn was extremely aware of the time this was costing him.

"Fine," he said lastly, but insisted. "Only you. The rest Disapparate."

Thorfinn only waited to see the French woman enthusiastically nod before Disapparating out of the grounds. Courtesy of Delacour, he supposed. He wouldn't have breached the wards otherwise.

A certified fool.

Thorfinn later found out that that was exactly what he was. The bloody Gryffindors had a pathetic Hufflepuff side to them. The lot of them!

Who'd in their right mind wait for their murderer to come to them?

* * *

 ***sobrat means 'brother' in Russian. I hope I used it correctly :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

Chapter 3

"Open up!" Thorfinn yelled while shaking the iron gates of the Malfoy Manor. He wasn't even in the bloody garden of the gigantic place, Merlin knew what they were up to inside. Would he be able to make it? "Fuck. I know you can hear me Malfoy! I SAY OPEN UP! That fool Dolohov will take all the glory; the tosser left me behind!"

There was a loud crack, and subsequently Thorfinn caught the sight of the silvery blond hair of the Malfoys. How that meager colour was able to lighten up the gruesome Manor, Thorfinn was not sure.

"You're late, Rowle."

It was the baby Malfoy. His usually pristine suit must have evaded ironing, and his bloodshed eyes was far away from painting a happy rich man. _Boy_ , Thorfinn corrected. Regardless of how much Malfoy tried to show himself as the Lord Malfoy in the absence of his father's influence, he was still a boy struggling to survive.

"When I walk through the gates, I won't be," Thorfinn countered Malfoy, but there was disbelief across the boy's face. Thorfinn pressed on, "Between me and my prize, eh, Malfoy?"

Baby Malfoy took a few steps back, and the iron gates opened with a grating creak. Thorfinn walked inside.

"After you," baby Malfoy gestured Thorfinn to fall into step.

Almost running inside, Thorfinn made his way to the drawing room where all the meetings were held during the Dark Lord's stay in the Manor. The Manor was eerily quiet, and their echoing footsteps put Thorfinn on edge even more as baby Malfoy's presence did little to ease his distraught mind.

"He'll speak, milord!" cried the all too familiar voice of Antonin Dolohov behind the heavy twin doors of the drawing room. "Mercy, please!"

Thorfinn's breath hitched when he heard a distinct voice calmly pronounce, "Crucio."

 _Nothing more than a few additional cracked ribs_ , Thorfinn prayed for his older brother, but he knew it was wiser to face the truth.

Listening to Tony's harrowing screams, Thorfinn found himself hesitating on the door's handle. He was amazed that he hadn't yet thought about his alternative option: He could flee now.

In another country, with a brand new name for himself, Thorfinn could have that peaceful life he wished, full of opportunities.

Bill Weasley would die in Thorfinn's absence.

Antonin Dolohov would… die, if the Dark Lord indeed chose to be merciful.

And Harry Potter's favor would be wasted on Thorfinn.

'Himself before everyone else', was Thorfinn's new and foremost rule. Unfortunately he owed his life to Potter, so that meant, Potter first, only then himself before everyone else. However, in the short two weeks Thorfinn Rowle spent with Potter, he'd quickly picked up Potter's motto of, "Everyone before myself."

 _Maybe he was turning more Gryffindor than Hufflepuff..._

That made everything difficult, but Thorfinn's choices were much more clear.

It was more in the lines of, don't think about your life, save those you love, and magically, and _hopefully,_ all will work out and both of you will survive.

 _Bloody Gryffindors._

Thorfinn's hand slipped away from the handle, and he took a step back from the doors. Disapparate, he could easily do, but Thorfinn knew his manners. He wouldn't leave before paying homage to the host of Shell Cottage; and surely, it wouldn't be rude to interfere while Bill Weasley was currently occupied by the Dark Lord.

Pushing the twin doors open with wandless magic, Thorfinn entered the room and immediately got down on one knee. How he wished he could have his long black cape, its air of importance would rub on him and Thorfinn would feel less like an insect in front of the Dark Lord.

"Rowle?"

His cold and commanding voice resonated in the room, and its venom seeped in from where it bit Thorfinn's heart, slowing it down enough to make Thorfinn wonder if he was already dead.

Thorfinn gulped, and overcoming the buzzing noise mincing his ears, he croaked out, "Milord."

"You're late," the Dark Lord spoke. Waiting for a Crucio, Thorfinn shut his eyes. It never came. "I hope _you_ have not failed me like dear Dolohov."

Concluding that his presence had indeed lightened up the Dark Lord, Thorfinn craned his neck to peek around the room. He didn't meet the Dark Lord's red gaze -he was no fool- but he chanced to observe every last detail.

He'd need a plan to escape this damn hole.

Thorfinn's eyes first landed on Tony. The man still thrashed on the floor, all of his limbs going every which way, and silent screams coming from his open mouth. Aside from those tear tracks on his battered face, there were lines of blood where the poor man clawed to lessen the pain. Not a single sound came from him, nothing.

It seemed the Dark Lord valued his peace.

Just when Thorfinn thought there to be absolute silence, a coughing pierced the stillness. Blue eyes were drawn to the source, and Thorfinn found himself looking at a Weasley.

Bill Weasley to be precise. Thorfinn wouldn't mistake such long red hair and claw marks on the face.

His black shirt and trousers did one hell of a job hiding the blood stains, Thorfinn thought as there was a pool of blood where the guy kneeled, and his pale face was enough indication that he had lost much more than he let on. Weasley barely stood, Thorfinn noticed, his one and only support was the white spidery hand that had a death grip on his throat, Weasley's own hands clutched it desperately to be freed.

The Dark Lord seemed not to mind the blood-traitor smearing the treacherous red colour on his noble self, he must have been fixated at the prospect of the information on the whereabouts of Potter.

The ginger man coughed again, and forced out, "Not...a single...word… From me." Every word taking its toll while spoken, yet Bill Weasley's voice never wavered. He smiled; his white teeth were coloured, once again, with blood.

Thorfinn changed his mind that day: _Red doesn't suit the Weasleys._

The Dark Lord scowled for a moment before sighing, "How foolish…" He threw Weasley on the ground, shaking his hand that was dripping of blood.

Thorfinn didn't catch what spell the Dark Lord muttered afterwards, but he saw his yew wand flick and concurrently Bill Weasley wheezed as if struggling to breathe… His eyes bulged, his frantic hands intended to rip open his throat while he squawked at the excruciating pain.

"I know how to make him speak," Thorfinn rushed out. "Milord."

Red eyes shifted immediately on Thorfinn, and the only reason he was not yet shitting his pants was the exhale of relief that came from Weasley upon the Dark Lord's loss of interest in the man.

"I nearly forgot you were here," the Dark Lord said as he stepped towards Thorfinn. He knew that this was not the best time to do what he wished, but his time was narrowing. Avada Kedavra was not an alien spell to Lord Voldemort.

"You'd seemed," the Lord drawled out. "...as useless as him."

Thorfinn saw the slight tilt of the madman's head towards the left where Tony should be, most probably still as a dead man if by any chance the Dark Lord had ended his spell on him. It was regrettable that the Lord was powerful enough to maintain numerous spells at the same time; his Death Eaters were the most unpleased.

Thinking that this was his only chance, Thorfinn tried to catch Bill Weasley's eyes. How his own stare would convey to Weasley that everyone had fled the safe-house, that it was fine to give away the location in exchange for his life, Thorfinn was not sure.

He just prayed… He prayed that those blue eyes Thorfinn knew to be just, forgiving and compassionate, not only as a previous Quidditch Captain, but also as a Head Boy and a beloved husband, would catch Thorfinn's meaning and act according to the blond's poor plan.

Weasley coughed, tears tracking his scarred face, but he was better at breathing now. He could hold Thorfinn's stare, and as he did, Thorfinn had the fleeting doubt that the man's stare was clouded by definite hostility.

He did not see Thorfinn. He saw the footman of a mass-killer who was about to massacre his own family, his pregnant wife and anyone whom he held dear.

Thorfinn did not know how to say that that would never happen, that he had found a way to reunite Weasley with his family, safe and sound.

So he just nodded.

Thorfinn held Weasley's stare, and only nodded. But, then, miraculously he had the balls to mouth, ' _Tell_ '.

Thorfinn had never been the guy who you would look at his face and deem him to be trustworthy. He had a look that scared the little ones away -one of the many reasons the young students never approached him- and something about him always gave the teachers a doubt whether he was telling the truth, or planning their murder, for that matter. His blood and fortune were the only things that would reassure the family of his future bride at their first meeting. His smiles that eased his harsh looks were only reserved for those he dearly loved, and they were really few in number.

That's why Thorfinn did not expect Weasley, without much hesitation, to breathe out, "Cornwall...Tinworth."

Thorfinn was blinded by the Dark Lord's cape which blocked his view of Weasley while he struggled to give the address to the man.

"Change of heart, I see," the Dark Lord assessed, over the cloud in the way he was capable. "What do I owe this…?"

The Dark Lord turned around to realize Thorfinn's presence once again. Forgettable, Thorfinn was not, but forgotten he was by the Dark side.

"Hah!" he exclaimed and in a swift motion his hand rested on Thorfinn's left shoulder. "Rowle, it was you, I presume?"

"Only for milord," Thorfinn bowed and felt triumph by the Dark Lord's happiness. He would be distracted from now on, Thorfinn knew. So all he had to do was grab Weasley and Disapparate.

The light at the end of tunnel was in Thorfinn's reach, and he had no intention to miss it.

"Good, good… You've served well," the Dark Lord muttered and stepped away from Thorfinn. "Now we must gather and attack."

The Dark Lord hissed, in the all too familiar way when he asked upon his gigantic and hungry snake. Thorfinn knew well that he wouldn't be the reptile's meal, but he wasn't comfortable with its presence either way.

"Your mark," the Dark Lord ordered all of a sudden, and Thorfinn was just about to offer his arm like the obedient little slave he used to be, but he was halted by the Dark Lord's distance.

He wasn't ordering Thorfinn.

"Hold still, Draco," the Dark Lord hissed, every word quite distinguishable.

Thorfinn had long forgotten that baby Malfoy had been there with them in the Drawing Room. Looking at his fear-stricken face, it was obvious that Malfoy had been wishing to be forgotten as well.

The yew wand dug into his Dark Mark, a drastic contrast with his pale skin, and the Dark Lord cast the spell that would call upon his followers.

Thorfinn rose to his feet, knowing that at any minute, one by one, Death Eaters would pop in the room. He slithered closer to Bill Weasley, but did nothing to reach for him.

He wasn't sure how to get away from here. It wouldn't be as easy as just...disapparating, right?

"Lift the wards," the Dark Lord ordered once again, and baby Malfoy nodded in a stew.

Not a change was felt by the blond man ready to Disapparate him and Weasley. He was startled by the sound of consecutive loud cracks, each one revealing familiar Death Eaters.

"Nott, Yaxley, Carrows…"

Thorfinn didn't want to stay over for greetings. If he didn't want to be outed as a traitor, he had to wait for the time everyone would Disapparate, but in that case he would only have milliseconds to take Fleur and get out of the Shell Cottage. That would be impossible.

Thorfinn had to Disapparate now. Screw getting outed, screw the Dark side, screw the Dark Lord.

He slowly kneeled by Weasley and grabbed his shoulder. Just as he was about to turn on his heel, a voice shouted, " _Immobilus_!"

Thorfinn didn't stop to see what happened. He didn't stop when he felt someone else grab his arm.

He Disapparated with Weasley… along with another Death Eater.

* * *

There were only a few things that would stir Hermione awake from her most needed sleep. She had never woken up to Lavender and Parvati's gossips in the middle of the night, nor had she woken up for a crisis of cockroaches that one time back in their fifth year. Life or death situation was the only option.

Hence why she had had woken up at an ungodly hour for Ronald's poisoning and when Mr. Weasley was bitten.

However, today, there were no such instances. Unless those two dolts whom Hermione called best friends, were on each other's throats for one reason or the other, there was no reason for the Fidelius Charm on Shell Cottage to not hold. They were perfectly safe, and no one was under a death threat, which should equal to a nice long nap for the brunette witch.

As Hermione rolled over in her comfortable bed, she cursed her friends for being so bloody loud. She couldn't sleep. Sure, she was bordering on diving into a soundless sleep, one that she certainly craved although Harry and Ron had insisted that she hadn't been doing anything else for the past two weeks, but it seemed like she had no luck.

Humming in content for in her aching limbs' stead, she forced her fluttering lids to close, trying one last time to fall asleep.

Her eyes stayed closed even through the explosions, thinking that Ron might be playing Exploding Snap with Harry, however when she felt her window getting lighted with a green spark, Hermione jolted awake.

Had that been an Avada dissolving across her window?

"What?!" Hermione gasped but she still couldn't put one and two together. She would blame the pain-killing potions later for having numbed her to the point of dismissing the altercation downstairs.

That's why when the door opened, and a head of blond hair peeked out, calling, "Granger?", Hermione doubted she gave any response as perplexed as she was.

Gray eyes landed on her, and after a look of recognition passed his handsome face, Hermione watched in awe as one Draco Malfoy rushed to her side.

"Granger! C'mon, there is no time! We need to get out of here."

Hermione felt her blood drain at the sight of him drawing closer to her. It wasn't his blond hair, his pointy chin or his classic Malfoy features that terrified her. She wasn't scared of her childhood bully, she had grown stronger than him, unyielding. The reminder that he had stood there while she was tortured, her pleadings as if shouted into a void; none of them had she held him for it. She had seen the horror across his pain-stricken face as he stood there, she had noticed his fingers twitching where they were stationed close to his wand, and she had realized that his fleeting glances were thrown to where his mother had been.

It was his eyes.

It was his gray eyes that put a lump in her throat, suffocating her just as it sent her world spinning.

Her stomach clenched sickeningly as a mantra echoed in her head: I didn't take anything. I didn't take anything. I didn't take anything. Ididn'ttakeanything. IDIDNTTAKEANYTHING.

It was _her_ eyes.

"Granger, no! Calm down!"

Two firm hands grabbed her shoulder. She struggled against the hold, screaming, thrashing, clawing. She hadn't taken anything! Not a damn thing! Why? Why would she not listen? She hadn't… truly… not a single thing!

Her senses were flooded by a smell of parchment and a scent distinctly male. She felt herself relaxing, thinking herself back in the Hogwarts library with Ron and Harry. There would be a Transfiguration essay due next day, a solid reason for Ronald's presence between so many books. And McGonagall would have held Quidditch practices over Harry's head, saying that one more late essay would cost him his position on the team. Hermione wouldn't mind, she always loved the library best when she had her friends with her, at least the first fifteen minutes of it.

Smelling one more whiff, Hermione calmed enough to wrap her arms around the person who had caged her in.

"Better?" a soft voice asked, and Hermione nodded against the silky fabric. "I'm going to let go of you, Granger, and you better not shout. You hear me?"

Hermione nodded again, and this time the warmth surrounding her lessened and the coolness made the goosebumps rise.

Blinking, she realized that she stared at a kneeling Draco Malfoy. His brows were creased. He couldn't be...worried, could he?

"He's come, we need to leave," Draco informed her, rising at his feet. "Rowle is holding them off, but once Potter escapes the Dark Lor-him, we will run out of time."

Hermione listened to him intently but only certain words popped out: Rowle and the Dark Lord.

Rowle, as in Thorfinn Rowle? Slytherin, three years her senior? The 'I snog every blonde in the alcoves' arsehole?

Hermione's shock was quickly clouded with worry however, as she remembered 'Potter' to be in the same sentence as 'the Dark Lord'.

"Harry? Is he alright?"

Malfoy indicated Hermione to hush, forefinger on his lips. Hermione mouthed a 'sorry' at her unusually loud voice, to which Malfoy nodded.

He didn't offer her his hand but headed directly to the door. Hermione followed him, wondering only now about why she trusted Malfoy without any hesitations.

Waking up from her stupor, Hermione closed the door Malfoy was just now opening. Pushing him to the door, she pointed her wand at his throat immediately. Her left arm digging into his abdomen to hold him in place.

She winced as her quick motion hurt her scar on her forearm as well as the other two knife wounds.

Malfoy hissed, not imagining such defiance from the wounded witch.

"What are you doing here Malfoy? Trying to help me, you say?"

"You bloody-" Malfoy was about to curse but Hermione narrowed her eyes as the wand's pressure increased on his throat.

Hermione's retort was interrupted, though, when another voice inquired for Malfoy. "Ferret, what is taking you so long? Bring Hermione here, we have to go!"

Hermione knew that voice. It was Ron. Was she dreaming, or had he just trusted Malfoy with her?

"In a minute!" yelled the strained voice of Malfoy. It wasn't enthusiastic on Hermione's part, letting him go, but let go she did. Once gaining his full height again, Malfoy shrugged his robes to perfection and corrected his hair. An irritating habit in Hermione's opinion which reminded her of the Malfoy she knew- it was comforting in an odd way.

"First, we get out-faster than you'd done from that Divination class," Malfoy said holding the door knob. "Then you can interrogate me all you want, Mud-Granger."

Hermione rose her brows mockingly at his slip. He sneered.

"At least I'm changing. You're the usual. Quite pathetic if you ask me."

With that Malfoy held her wrist and pulled her through the door. He acted as though he hadn't heard her mutter, "You could use a mirror."

They rushed down the stairs, their steps loud enough to attract stray Death Eaters. Malfoy didn't seem to mind, but he was obviously much more content when Hermione cast a silencing charm on both of them.

There was no time to pass on a thank you, not that Hermione imagined Malfoy ever thanking her.

Hermione caught a glimpse of shining red hair a few steps away from the stairs. Ron was firing spells at someone to the right, unseen from where Hermione and Malfoy were. The open kitchen was the last place you'd wish for dodged spells to land, but as masterful as Ron was to deflect spells, there was no choice but to listen to the kitchenware crash in a deafening clatter.

"Ron-!"

Hermione's eyes bulged at the sight of Ron vanish before her eyes. Something big- or rather someone had crashed into him, sending both of them flying across the kitchen.

Hermione shoved Malfoy out of the way, and casting a _Protego_ , came out of the stairway. The Death Eater that had blasted off Ron wore one of those masks, and the black robe was so plain that there was nothing to help distinguish who he was.

Hermione needn't a name to beat the crap out of him, though.

Raising her wand higher, Hermione felt her magic buzz through herself, making her hair cackle enough that she could bet it had become thrice its normal size.

Flick of her wand, and a stinging jinx flew to the foe. One to the right, one more to the left, to the middle… Hermione lost count of the spells she sent in the intruder's way. She was checking where his shield had cracks- or she was determined to blast off the damned thing.

She wasn't late to realize that the Death Eater's shield was thinning; it was unfortunate that she was skipping stunning spells in favor of those more vicious and dark ones she had picked up from light reading.

Horcrux hunting had been… refreshing for the brunette witch.

Risking a glance at Malfoy, she realized him to be without a wand. Harry had mentioned taking the wands away from Malfoy when they had visited Ollivander before she went to take a nap, but Hermione hadn't given much thought to it.

No wonder she was the only one fighting, with Ron blacked out and all.

Her divided attention topping the sudden dizziness caused her own shield to dissipate, and if not for Malfoy jerking her away from the spell, she could have gotten her whole right arm cut, instead of just a graze to her upper arm.

She hissed at the burning pain and watched as the blood poured down her arm, her vine wood wand soaking up the liquid where it dripped towards the ground.

Having had enough, Hermione sent a spell that minced the foe's lungs, making the victim choke on his own blood. It was her luck that the Death Eater had dropped his shield at the prospect of fatally wounding her.

Hermione watched as the man stood still, his wand falling to the ground from his lifeless hand. He coughed, blood spurting out of the cavity on the mask where his mouth had to be, and seconds later, he dropped. Dead.

The sound of a cloth being ripped woke Hermione from her trance and she did her best to steady her panting.

"Merlin, Granger. Couldn't you have done that to Bella?"

Hermione felt the gentle tug of Malfoy, and her wand arm was carefully held by his trembling hands. Temporarily cleaning her wound, Malfoy wrapped a black silky cloth around her arm. When he was finished, he bent down and grabbed his jacket, wearing it over his shirtless top.

Shirtless…

Hermione looked back at the black garment on her arm. "Don't tell me…"

Malfoy smirked, "Not only helping you with your wound, but giving you a nice view… Well, Granger, thanks are in order, I reckon."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I could return the favor- after cutting open your arm."

Malfoy grimaced. "No, fine. Never been less interested."

Their somewhat truce was interrupted, however, by a pained groan.

Hermione turned on her heel and ran to Ron, cursing herself for having forgotten him. She halted in her stride, though, when she noticed the blond man crushing her best friend under him.

Sure, he was not his old bulky self, having lost most of his muscles -biceps to be precise- but, for Ron, it shouldn't feel like having a kitten on his lap. His blond hair was longer than Hermione recalled, it passed his shoulders, bordering on his trim waist. His broad shoulders were not different, ever highlighting his handsome genes, but with the lost pounds, Thorfinn Rowle's ribs could be counted. It was not attractive.

His smile was not attractive either.

And especially not his eyes. His ocean blue eyes were definitely not attractive.

"Deja vu, ain't it?" Rowle muttered loud enough. He wasn't trying to stand up; he looked happy where he was, sprawled on the floor on top of Ron, all his white teeth showing because of that big smile of his. "Last time you were wearing a skirt, though. And stockings, black ones."

Hermione scowled. She recalled exactly which time he was talking about. She had stormed out of that Divination class, not being in the mood to put up with Trelawney's bull after having confronted Rowle.

Oddly it felt reassuring, again, to see Rowle somewhat unchanged. It was like with Malfoy. Hermione was really missing her old peaceful life.

"So, you're alone this time?" Hermione asked him, offering her hand.

Rowle shrugged, taking her hand. She was about to pull him, but sad fact was that she was tired and he was heavy regardless. She breathed out, then tried again.

Rowle too pushed himself up, and swung towards Hermione because of her rather powerful pull. He was about to topple over her, sending both of them to the ground, but Hermione held her ground. Her offer of a hand had somehow turned into an embrace. _Slytherins_.

She gently extracted herself, not wanting to wound the man more, even if it would be his pride that would take the blow.

"I've got Tony." Upon Hermione's frown, Rowle provided. "Antonin, Antonin Dolohov."

That pretty frown didn't cease from her face, but Thorfinn wasn't complaining.

Shaking her head, Hermione choose the more light-hearted route of conversation. They had an unsettled score anyway. "Is _he_ blond?"

Rowle barked a laugh which made the blood rush to Hermione's cheeks. Rather than looking at the Slytherin alumni, she chose to observe Malfoy as he aided Ron to his feet.

Rowle caught her attention again, unknown to Hermione, he had not liked her eyes wandering away from him. "Qualifications changed, though."

"What?" Hermione found herself daftly asking. His meaning dawning on her, she shrugged. "Oh, is that so?"

 _Like I care,_ she wanted to reply but a sinking feeling indicated the contrary.

"Yep, I only like what I see," he replied. She opened her mouth wide enough to screech at him for being ridiculous, that that sentence hadn't even made sense, but she was interrupted by his wink. "No type. She just has to steal my heart."

Hermione groaned at the cliche, but before she could retort something smart at him -which would be quite alien to the oaf- Ron interfered. "Harry will Disapparate any moment, now. Will and Fleur were the first ones to leave. I'm positive that Lupin saved the goblin and Ollivander, too. That leaves us, Harry and Luna. If we don't hurry we'll be the last ones to-"

Just then an angry scream cut the evening, a mixture of a human cry and a snake's hiss.

It was him.

Harry had escaped.

Aimless spells collided with anything in their path. The distant explosions soon neared where the four of them cowered in the kitchen. First the window blew up, then the roof shook, and before long, the smoke of the fire flooded the room. _Fiendfyre_.

Hermione heard someone kick some rubble out of the way. Unfortunately, he was no ally. Seeing the fire pass him, a bubble of air protecting the Death Eater, the gears in Hermione's mind turned and her wand cast powerful fire-repelling charms, although she doubted it would help with Fiendfyre. The caster would be safe from it, but them… Her small trick would hopefully buy them time.

 _Magic_ , she remembered, and for the countless time in her life envied those who were born to this world, who were familiar with magic as if it was no different than breathing.

Her reflexes could never rival such an instinct- reliance.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled over the crackling fire eating away at Shell Cottage. His voice must have woken everyone from their daze, as everything happened so fast from then on.

Hermione saw Rowle reach out for her, his open palm colliding with her chest, he pushed her towards Ron and Malfoy.

His voice never reached Hermione. She saw him mouth, 'GO!' but it was as if he was mute.

She saw his blond mane dancing like the fire, his eyes lightening up with renewed strength, and his wand arm raised casting a flimsy shield.

It would only hold enough for their escape.

"THORFINN!" Hermione cried out but it was too late: Ron had Disapparated them away.

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **Thank you all for the amazing interest that was shown to the story. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter too. I just wanted to tell you that I'll be on holiday till the 7th of August, so for the upcoming two weeks I might not be able to update. Be sure to hang around :D**

 **Take care!**

 **-Ydream08**


	4. Chapter 4

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

Chapter 4

The impact that cost Thorfinn his shield, sent him flying across the kitchen. His back painfully hitting the counters, he fell face-down.

Blood trickled from his eyebrow and a pounding headache surged, but Thorfinn forced himself to focus- there was a man intending to kill him, taking a nap would be the laughable course of action.

His ears were buzzing, making it even harder to think. There was no time. He had a wand in hand, stolen, from one of the Death Eaters he had finished off. If he had to guess, Thorfinn would say it had been Nott Sr.'s, yet he knew that the guy was too damn lucky to be taken down.

If it was that easy, the prayers of his own son alone would have offed the oldie.

It was one of the Carrows', Thorfinn decided, a solid reason why the wand had yielded to him at the first touch. The siblings themselves had never been known to be loyal.

Feeling the last of his magic travel to the wand where it warmed his palm, Thorfinn glanced up to attack the Death Eater's weakest point. He shouldn't lay down any longer. Seeing no apparent protective charm, the Death Eater seemed quite defenseless, too.

"Diffindo!" Thorfinn yelled, probably the mildest spell to damage a foe. But his blank mind failed to conjure something fiercer. How he wished he had that fatal spell Granger had used a second ago in his arsenal!

The spell cut the man's arm, halting him enough that Thorfinn shot another spell towards him. This one struck his mask, the silver cover having split in half as easy as a knife cutting through butter.

A shrill scream followed the clang of the mask hitting the floor. Thorfinn was awestruck to see that the bleeding wound starting from one cheek and traveling to the other, passing by a pug nose, had formed on the face of no other than Paulina Parkinson.

Looking at the person standing across him, Thorfinn now distinguished a narrower waist and thinner arms that could not belong to a man. If not for the split mask, Thorfinn could never have noticed these differences as she wore the blackest cloak, hiding away her identity.

Honestly, Thorfinn would have never dreamed to come across the bitch here. Not when the last time he had seen her was when she had told on Eadric to the Dark Lord.

She had led his brother to his death, one that she desperately desired for she had thought that Eadric had betrayed her. Betrayed her and her love.

Thorfinn felt himself losing it when a powerful laugh ripped through his chest.

The whore had screwed up her last mission which she had taken from her dead parents who had disappointed the Dark Lord with their unfinished task. Her sister had not been of age yet, so she had tried to clear the Parkinson's name on her own. A skilled witch, Paulina Parkinson had never been. And when the Dark Lord denounced her, about to strike her with the Killing Curse which Thorfinn knew would have been a lesser punishment than the woman deserved, Eadric had stepped in for her.

They used to be friends.

Eadric gave her a second chance although their friendship had been over ever since Hogwarts. She had wronged him then, Thorfinn couldn't remember the petty argument that led to it, but he knew that Eadric had decided to severe ties with her. He'd always wished the best for her, with the only condition of her staying as far away as possible from him. One more reason Thorfinn couldn't understand his Hufflepuff brother. He, himself, would have rather watched the girl suffer from afar if she had indeed wronged him.

In the end, Parkinson owed her life to Eadric as the Dark Lord showed her mercy by only attaining her to be under Eadric's responsibility. His Lord hadn't turned down the only wish of one of his most loyal followers, Eadric Rowle.

Imagine Parkinson's surprise when she witnessed Eadric aiding a Mudblood and her family to escape. They were sent there to kill them among many. But Eadric had done the opposite. Turns out, the Mudblood had been another friend from Hogwarts. Ravenclaw. Eadric had been in love with her.

He had been in love with a Mudblood.

Parkinson's accusation was all bullshite, Thorfinn had thought as he had listened to her confessing to this shocking news. His brother would never have done that. Save those pests, perhaps, as Eadric indeed had had a generous heart; but fall in love with one?

He was the one warning Thorfinn about Granger back during their school years.

* * *

" _The little mudblood is late to her class. Like I care. That munter…" Thorfinn kept muttering to himself as he made his way to the dungeons. It was the last class of the day anyway, nobody would cuss if he missed it._

 _He would have gone to the pitch, fly to forget his distress, but alas, the weather was not pleasant. He disliked when Dementors rained from the dark clouds. No thank you, getting soaked would have been enough._

 _Giving the password and storming into the common room, he ignored his mates who apparently had had the same brilliant idea of skipping the class. He wanted to be in his room and work on his right-hook at his punching bag. One good thing about being raised by his grandmother had been her tolerance to their hobbies on the condition that they behave like a true pure-blooded wizard aside from those spare times. She especially didn't comment on Thorfinn's rather brutal nature when he channeled that fighting spirit into turning his muscles into that of a Greek God's._

 _She loved to show-off with the Rowle heir when he rivaled the infamous Adonis._

" _What got your knickers in a twist, Rowle?" called out Marcus Flint, masterfully halting Thorfinn before he got to work out in his room. He knew that he shouldn't have turned around, gracing that wanker with an answer. They weren't on pleasant speaking terms anyway because of their scores from the last Quidditch match haven't been seen to- Marcus had gone bonkers when Thorfinn had wandered away from his strategy to score on his own._

 _So, no, answering a guy who would enjoy every second of riling him up, was the most stupid thing to do, but Thorfinn had already gone mad after Granger had interfered with his snogging. How much worse could his day get?_

" _Wasn't he saying something about the Gryffindor Mudblood? What was her name- you know, from the third year?" Terrance Higgs provided, the included news stretching the Slytherins' faces into wide grins. As if that was a weakness that they could poke Thorfinn with!_

 _Thorfinn wanted to laugh. The Mudblood was nothing but an annoyance to him._

" _Was he now?" Flint drawled. "Her name was Granger, if I remember correctly. Dear Draco would know more about her, but Rowle, you? Don't tell me you've taken a liking to her? Even a daft giant like you could woo a half-blood, at least. Let me guess, you tasted her sullied cunt and couldn't get enough of it-"_

 _Flint couldn't talk further as Thorfinn's left-hook had stolen the air from his lungs. Remembering that he had intended to actually practice his right-hook, Thorfinn didn't loose time to swing another punch with his other hand. That collided with the tosser's jaw. If Flint was lucky, that force could fit his irregular jaw back in its place. Only then would his hideous teeth look something near presentable._

 _Thorfinn was more or less aware who had backed away from their small group of friends and who were trying to shove him off Flint. Bletchley was one of those who tried to refrain Thorfinn; he would give him a piece of his mind later on._

" _Finn? Finn!"_

 _Thorfinn didn't register the familiar nickname, nor did he notice that he was separated from Flint finally. There was a body-binding spell on him. Fuck. He wasn't yet done. He wanted the rat-face back in his hands to squash his skull. Or he could strike his mouth and leave him unable to speak._

 _How he cursed at the healing spells that quickly fixed those kinds of minor injuries!_

" _I'm not going to hit you, Finn. Pull yourself together-"_

 _Thorfinn raised his eyes to meet with his brother's. He didn't look angry, more like disappointed._

 _Thorfinn took deep breaths to calm himself down, and cursed after each breath. He was the older brother. Eadric should be proud of him, not ashamed of him._

" _If you please?" Thorfinn hissed at his brother. His anger was directed at Flint, but he couldn't help when it strayed to those that were close to him. He shouldn't have given the Slytherin password to his brother; then, he could have beat the crap out of Flint just like he wished._

 _The wanker had scurried away to the hospital wing with a bleeding nose and lip. Thorfinn hadn't missed that while Eadric interfered._

" _C'mon. I'll take you to your room," Eadric said and Thorfinn watched as he pocketed his wand. He had undone the body-bind._

 _Thorfinn rose on his feet and fell into step with his brother. He was wobbling as they proceeded, but neither of them commented on it. When the door to his dorm closed, Thorfinn plopped down on his bed._

 _Eadric was lecturing him, Thorfinn was aware. He had a hard time listening though._

 _After five minutes of silence on his side, Thorfinn shifted his attention to his brother._

" _Let her be, will you?" he was fuming. "I don't see her acting like a savage just because you two talked. She is not worth it. You are screwing with your friends over a Mugge-born girl you barely know to whom you won't ever speak a word to ever in the future. I don't say to like the girl, or greet her for Helga's sake. Don't even be civil to her, I doubt you could manage that anyway. More like, act like she doesn't exist. Are we clear?"_

" _Tell that to her, Eddy," Thorfinn shot back, a helpless laugh followed his statement. It was not as though Thorfinn went and looked for Granger to spar with her! She was always there._

 _She was there in every damn corridor -more so this year for whatever the flying reason-; she was there nearly the whole week in the Great Hall, punctually at the sunrise when it was his time to leave for Quidditch; and she was there at most of the Quidditch games, Merlin's bollocks, but seriously with a damn book in her lap!_

 _It was by instinct that Thorfinn's eyes were drawn to her. Lately, he had concluded that she did it on purpose. Who'd in their right mind bring a book to a Quidditch game otherwise? Attention-whore would be a suitable, but unfortunately an inappropriate way to diagnose her._

 _He called her exactly that anyway, while he argued with his brother. He was spouting crap, Thorfinn couldn't sit silent anymore._

 _Turns out, Eadric had never seen Granger in the same light as Thorfinn. She was another boring and brainless Gryffindor according to his Hufflepuff brother. Thorfinn was exaggerating, in Eadric's opinion. That's what he called the situation: Exaggeration._

 _Eadric didn't understand. Parkinson was screwing with his mind, Thorfinn knew, but still, he had expected more from his brother._

* * *

Thorfinn rarely had seen Parkinson after his own graduation. He was a year above Eadric and her, and they had minimal interactions amidst the Death Eater ranks. He hadn't been in her presence long enough to care for her, even when she had been given to Eadric for supervision. So that day when eventually Parkinson stepped forward while Death Eaters reported to the Dark Lord of their recent activities, Thorfinn hadn't had even half a mind to listen to her until his brother's name tumbled out of her mouth.

Thorfinn hadn't believed what Parkinson was ratting to the Dark Lord, he had been there in the same room to report his own task. Thorfinn still hadn't believed when the Dark Lord sifted through Parkinson's memories and saw the incident in which Eadric saved his school crush. He still hadn't believed when the Dark Lord called on Eadric and interrogated him.

He hadn't believed when Eadric confessed to his feelings and demanded an out from the cause. How much of an idiot could his brother be, Thorfinn had thought, to actually think that he'd get away with doing such a scandalous thing? If he had done, of course.

Thorfinn still hadn't believed when the Dark Lord pointed his wand at Eadric. He hadn't believed… until Eadric's eyes turned to him, and he noticed the tears welled up in their depths.

It had happened faster than the blink of an eye. Thorfinn had wanted to step in, realizing too late that he was spell-bound to not move. Sad thing was, even if he was not, he could not think of any protective spell that could have backfired the Killing Curse that was aimed at his brother. When his brother fell on the tiles with a thud, lifeless, Thorfinn had finally found the spell: Protego.

It wouldn't have helped.

It wouldn't have helped his brother. Eadric would have died regardless. Something more powerful might have helped. Something different, something that could have perhaps shoved him out of the way if not protected him.

He hadn't known a single spell. All those years in Hogwarts, three years with the Death Eaters, doing unspeakable things, and Thorfinn Rowle had a blank mind when it came to saving his brother.

He didn't even know the counter-curse to the bloody body-binding spell.

"Parkinson, if you would please take care of this," the Dark Lord's voice had hammered his skull. "Antonin, you and Thorfinn will hunt down Potter. Bring him to me. I'd like no more… disappointments."

 _Finite_ , the answer popped in Thorfinn's mind, but it was too late. His brother was dead. Not that Thorfinn could have casted the spell wandlessly.

He was pathetic. Nothing but a mess when it came to magic. Even Mudblood Granger could do better than him. She wouldn't have let Potter die, and she hadn't.

Potter was alive after Thorfinn and Antonin's attack back in the coffee shop at Tottenham Court Road.

Eadric was not. He was dead. Gone. Away. Not here. Not anymore.

Thorfinn had failed as his older brother.

He had failed to protect him. From the Dark Side, from Bellatrix LeStrange, from the Dark Lord, and from Parkinson.

The bitch who towered over him right at this very moment.

Thorfinn did not think, not that he always did at such times. His anger lifting him up from the ground partially, enough to crawl to the woman drawing closer to him to land the final blow, he took a hold of her ankle just when she cast an explosion spell. Pulling her where he grabbed her, Thorfinn saw her spell shoot up to the ceiling, blasting it off.

Thorfinn took cover by the counters, but not wasting time there when the explosion quieted down, he drew himself on top of Parkinson who had crashed down on the ground. She had gotten hit on her head by a cluster of stone, lying there bleeding and half unconscious.

Thorfinn didn't care. He pulled his right arm, his hand in a firm fist, then he struck her with as much force as his weakened muscles could summarize. His knuckles hurt with each punch, bruised and even broken knowing that what twisted the girl's pug nose would not leave him unscathed.

Her mask was nowhere in sight now, not that her face was recognizable. Her eyes were closed and swollen, purple bruises could hardly be seen over the blood covering her face.

Thorfinn could not be more pleased with himself.

The bitch deserved it. How dare she! And she loved him? Loved Eadric? Thorfinn wanted to laugh. Love was not luring that special someone to their death, not under any circumstance.

What kind of a psycho would do such a thing to someone they loved? How could they even intentionally hurt them?

She deserved to die. Die a worse death than Eadric. More painful, rightfully deserving it.

He would give it to her. He'd kill her. With his bare hands. He'd enjoy it.

His punches had long ceased, and now his bloodied and tired hands covered her throat.

Thorfinn would finish her off. It was, again, better than what she deserved. She was not even aware that she would give her final breath. She had blacked out at the second punch, if Thorfinn was not mistaken. Not that he cared.

It would be over. Just like that. Eadric could be avenged.

Avenged?

Could killing Parkinson avenge his brother's death? Could Eadric sincerely sleep peacefully knowing that his classmate whom he'd countless times forgiven, was dead? Killed by his own brother?

And when Eadric's real killer was not this poor girl, but another monster?

Potter would kill the Dark Lord and Thorfinn would kill Parkinson. Eadric could only be avenged then, could he not?

The realisation that Thorfinn was only strong enough to kill Parkinson hit him hard, causing his hands to slack where they were about to collapse Parkinson's air pipe.

What was he going to change by killing her? Not the course of the war, that was sure.

Thorfinn had never aimed such a thing, but never wanted to be a disappointment to his late brother. That was what he would be if Parkinson died tonight.

Heck, he would be a disappointment if the Dark Side somehow won after Eadric lost his life for a Mudblo- Muggle-born.

Thorfinn Rowle slowly extracted himself from Paulina Parkinson who lay still on the ground. For a few long moments Thorfinn felt at a loss of what to do; the air was still in the Shell Cottage. No one was left. Realizing this, Thorfinn turned on his heel and Disapparated.

He didn't hear the wheezing nor the sob. The unintelligible sound had been a confession. "Sorry," Paulina Parkinson had cried. She had deserved it all, she knew. Playing unconsciousness had been cowardly of her, but she knew nothing different. "Forgive me."

* * *

It was burning.

The edges of the tattoo itched as the snake engraved on Thorfinn's flesh writhed to gain his attention.

Thorfinn sharply inhaled, his right hand securing his other arm just above the Morsmordre, nails digging into flesh. He unclenched his left fist each time the stiffness distracted him from thinking properly. Not that the pain helped. How he craved to claw the damn tattoo!

The Calling had never been so demanding—Thorfinn Rowle had never thought of delaying it. It was what Death Eaters did. They answered when called upon. Not much different than trained lap dogs.

He had never been bothered by it. He knew he'd never be the mastermind. He was a team player, not the captain.

Yet, he knew now that this Call would not bend his knee to the right man. Nor would it leave him alive if he answered, for that matter.

Hissing as the pain was not close to ceasing, Thorfinn leaned on to the closest tree. His heart frantically beat because his laboured breathing fell short, and the squeeze in his chest was so unbearable that Thorfinn's restlessly blinking eyes saw that the world was spinning to no stop. The ground would slip from under his feet any moment now, and when he'd open his eyes he'd find himself by the Dark Lord's bare feet. Left for his mercy.

Nagini would be crawling around for its master to let her eat Thorfinn.

His stomach squelched at the thought and the sweat trickling into his mouth did little good to settle it down.

Thorfinn was more or less aware that he was sliding where he stood, his left shoulder rubbing against the trunk of the tree as he made his way down. He slumped to the scratchy earth and for once took a breath of relief as his aching limbs no longer had to carry his weight- not that he was heavy anymore, all of his muscles were on the wane.

Shouting at the top of his lungs because -damn it all, it hurt!- Thorfinn wondered whether this would be it.

He was alone. In a forest he had seen last as a child into which he had just Apparated himself. No one looking for him except the maniac set to Avada him, and no one Thorfinn himself yearned to reach.

Potter had fled and was safe. He doubted he would think of him. Weasleys would only have a fleeting thought of him, but the fact was that the war continued on. Baby Malfoy had lots on his own plate, trying to prove himself to the Light Side and all, so Thorfinn didn't think he would give any mind to his fellow Death Eater.

That left Granger.

Thorfinn didn't know. Would she think of him? Well, she had looked shocked out of her wits when he had thrown her to Side-along Disapparate with Weasley. And before that, she had been surprisingly pleasant, funny even.

Thorfinn shook his head and laughed at his delirious mind for conjuring such obscenities. He had only one person in this whole fucking world. Only one person who'd care if he was alive or not.

And Thorfinn had left him bleeding on the stones of Malfoy Manor.

How would Thorfinn look Antonin Dolohov in the eye from today onwards, he did not know. Actually, he needn't know as it was a rickety chance he would see the sun rise.

The bloody tattoo would be the reason for it, that was sure.

Thorfinn cracked open an eye and glanced at his left forearm. It hadn't hurt as much for the past few minutes, and the only sane explanation would be that he had Apparated into the headquarters and he was dead.

You-know-who was not known for easily giving up.

The oddity of feeling relieved, Thorfinn realized, stemmed from the nails of his right hand scratching the tattoo. He could see blood where the skin was disturbed; it was not much, but the reddish marks seemed to have intercepted with the pain of the Calling. Thorfinn, now aware of the effect of his previously unconscious clawing, decided to seriously relieve him from the Dark Lord's Call.

What meant a few droplets of blood if he could avoid seeing his monstrous face?

The skin around the tattoo turned into a furious red, his long and persistent nails repeating the motion endless times. Bloody heavenly, that's how it felt! Thorfinn moaned as he scratched the tattoo more, no different than how he would have scratched the itch from a Mosquito bite. It hurt and burned like bloody hell, but it felt amazing at the same time.

His nails not satisfying him anymore, Thorfinn felt the ground for something sharp, and when he came by a refined piece of rock, he wasted no time.

From then on, the rock moved on his skin mercilessly, piercing and breaking the inked flesh anywhere that failed to resist to his brutality. The slick and cooling sensation the blood that covered his skin brought was something new and unfamiliar to Thorfinn but he welcomed it nevertheless. Anything that would save him from this curse he had chosen for himself…!

When Thorfinn could no longer see the black ink of the tattoo, even the bleeding wounds having entwined with one another, making it impossible to distinguish how and where Thorfinn drew which one of them, his right hand slacked and the red-stained rock fell from his hand.

The pain had long ago turned into a persistent throb with a slight tingling, and Thorfinn doubted that the Calling continued.

It had passed, fortunately.

Looking at the mess he had made, Thorfinn sighed. There was a pool of blood where he sat. His trousers were wet, his shirt full of bloodied fingerprints and his right hand glistened with the same red liquid.

Thorfinn combed his hair back from his face and ignored the fact that, while doing so, he had coloured his face and hair.

He grimaced upon seeing that beneath his fingernails there was dirt and blood. He hated that the most. One thing he had always bested Granger at was the care he gave to his fingernails. She had always been nibbling on hers whenever Thorfinn had spotted her in the school.

Ridiculous, but true.

Thorfinn shook his head, not liking his drifting thoughts. He had to tidy himself up. This much blood loss could not be good. The problematic thing was that he found himself to not care at all.

Blood this, blood that. He had heard so many lectures on blood while growing up. It felt liberating to get rid of it, albeit literally. Even his family words were about them. _Sanguis Protegit._ Blood protects. He miraculously remembered his father teaching him the words from when Thorfinn was five, explaining that the family should come before all else and that he could always rely on those of his own blood as they were oathed to protect. _Sanguis Protegit._

The Rowle family was known for their affiliation with Blood Magic above anything else. Naturally using the fire element to bind many of their rituals so that they could minimize failure.

Another reason why Fiendfyre had always fascinated Thorfinn. He might have lighted a fellow Death Eater, Gibbon, by mistake but it hadn't caused him to give up trying to control the spell. He might not be spectacular with magic, but he was not born to it for nothing.

 _Sanguis Protegit_ , echoed in his ears as he continued to stare at his forearm. His eyebrows creased, a hazy thought clearing the longer he looked at the blood slowly leaking through the gradually clotting wounds.

...Could it be?

Thorfinn had no idea what exactly that the Dark Lord had performed to mark them, he had been, unfortunately, too busy struggling to survive the ordeal, however if he knew one thing that was that the blood protected.

Finding the rock he had dropped once again, Thorfinn rested it against his abused flesh. He could as well use the blood already shed, but he had not intended to cast the ancient protective spell his grandmother had once taught. His action had been clouded by his stress, grief and pain.

And he knew well that intent was the core to magic.

Thorfinn seethed as the rock sliced his forearm once again, this time his numb body was alerted instantly. His awake mind catching up quickly to the stimulus, and not sparing him from feeling every damn millimeter of the cut.

Switching the rock quickly with Carrow's wand, Thorfinn began to chant the spell, being careful to pronounce everything right. He finished with whispering a last, "Sanguis Protegit," just out of habit, and watched as the cut healed itself after the recent blood was soaked up by his skin, leaving a shimmering site where it dissolved.

Thorfinn cried out as the spell struck him suddenly, his denatured Death Mark burning even stronger than when there was the Calling. Even his blood warred with the Mark, aware that it was no good for him. How in his right mind had Thorfinn abided into getting one?

He had been nuts, that's how.

His left hand slacked, and the wand rolled over, both of his arms dropping to the sides. As tranquility won over his drained body, Thorfinn's eyelids lost against gravity. He evenly breathed, exhaustion winning over comfort. He knew that he wasn't supposed to fall asleep in the middle of nowhere while Death Eaters had branded him as a traitor. He had to find Potter and the rest of the Light Side if he wanted to fulfil his promise to him and stay alive in the meantime.

Or he could run away from both sides till he recovered, then he could flee.

Thorfinn snorted. What a spineless man he was, for still thinking a short-way out of this mess. Were all Slytherins like this, or was he the only one, Thorfinn was not sure. He could count more people like him, though.

Was that pathetic, or what?

His thoughts spreading all over the place, Thorfinn efforted to cling onto one but he was too damn exhausted to plan his survival. He'd die if fate had befitted him that, it was the survival of the fittest, wasn't it?

He should have stood up and found somewhere safe, limp his way there if necessary. If not for his disheveled state, he could be dead by morning in the hands of a mercenary Death Eater. He should have hid.

Instead, Thorfinn fell asleep there, under the tree, covered in blood.


	5. Chapter 5

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

Chapter 5

"So we are going to do this?" Ron breathed out, asking no one in particular as the four of them were packed and ready in the middle of the drawing room. Hermione was thankful that not every Malfoy estate was identical, the thought of being back _there_ repulsed her, and she was even more thankful that Draco had proposed using one of his family properties as their hideout since Shell Cottage had been discovered.

* * *

 _After Voldemort invaded their safety house, all of them barely escaping, they had exchanged many patronuses in order to regroup. Not only had they no where else to go, but they were weary of contacting each other in case Death Eaters were on them. They had risked it anyways._

 _They had separated with Harry, having_ _been_ _left with no other choice._

" _I have a place," Malfoy had suggested after a long silence of_ _a_ _waiting Harry in some desolate corner of Forest of Dean. Hermione had already gotten their tent ready, with numerous wards protecting and hiding their camp. It was all they had, and for the first time, it hadn't felt enough. Even before Malfoy had spoken up._

 _Ron snorted, "Ferret, tell me it's not one of those times you show off your money."_

 _Malfoy sneered, rightfully offended at the remark. "Jealousy is a tell-tale in Weasleys, you know that?"_

 _Hermione flicked her wand, opting to only silence Ronald._

" _You'll be civil to him," Hermione stared hard at Malfoy. Seeing that there was a look on his face that shouted,_ why just chastise me? _, she added, "I'll have a word with him in private."_

" _Now," Hermione dismissed the short spat, lifting the silencing charm from Ron. "What were you saying?"_

 _Malfoy scrunched his face, his fingers playing with his family's signet ring. "Instead of this," -he was disdainfully pointing at their humble camp- "we could use one of my family's houses. We have a cottage here, outside of Gloucestershire. It should be safe. No one could enter with the ancient wards protecting the estate."_

"We _?" Ron scowled. Hermione found his reaction childish and daft, knowing that it had been him to trust Malfoy first. He had sent him to look for her, hadn't he?_

" _He wants an out from them," Hermione stated._

 _Malfoy smirked at that, probably at her familiar know-it-all voice. In her defence, how else could she state the obvious? Most of the time, Ronald needed it to be spelled out for him._

" _I know," Ron shot back at her. Hermione rolled her eyes. How had Ron even given a chance to Malfoy when he had first appeared in the Shell Cottage, Hermione didn't know._

" _I just can't fucking believe it," Ron whispered. Hermione and Malfoy decided to ignore the remark._

"He _is in your home, Malfoy," Hermione instead said, not wanting to cower from Voldemort's name but cautious in case the taboo was still in place. "How can we use any other property of yours without_ him _noticing it? If not that, logically speaking, your father would know, and then give us away."_

 _Malfoy wiped away all of his emotions from his face at that. He looked down at his hands, his thumb rubbing the signet ring having stalled, and he sighed. His creased eyebrows gave the impression that he was conflicted._

 _With how long he was silent, Hermione lost hope that he would speak, but he finally did:_

" _My Father will never hear about this."_

 _Hermione didn't ask further. His tone was definite and cold; distant as if he recalled a memory_.

* * *

"Potter, don't be daft!" Draco's angry retort brought Hermione back from her thoughts.

Three days had passed ever since that conversation in the woods. Aside from the properties Draco had offered for the Order to use as hideouts, he and Hermione had gotten to the first name basis. It was odd how much she liked sitting next to Draco in silence, both of them reading a book from his family's library.

Hermione glanced sideways where Draco had pulled Harry away to warn him once again. They had let Draco in on the plan after they had caught him eavesdropping. Surprisingly Harry had been the first one to give him a chance. Not the way Hermione had decided to let Draco be. Sure, he wanted to deflect, and he could very well do it. But that hadn't meant he would get to be in on their plans to acquire Horcruxes, at least that was Hermione's opinion.

Last night, when Hermione had wondered this out loud, Ron had said it was about Rowle. Something about how the senior Slytherin had paid Harry back ten fold, and since he was the one to bring Draco to them… Well, it was easy enough to do the math.

Hermione would get the details on that later on; they had been too busy making out the details for their break into Gringotts.

"It's going to be fine," Harry insisted, silencing any protest from Draco with finality. Hermione saw him shake his head and walk back to them. He looked sick of Draco's meddling, not surprising with how many desperate alternatives they had heard from Draco ever since their plan was out on the table. A few of them were notable, but the fact that Draco had outed himself as a traitor to the Dark Side made all of the options equally risky. And the fact that Ron preferred any plan that did not involve Draco had finalized their decision.

Draco would stand by with the others. Harry, Ron and she would come back here once they had the Horcrux in Bellatrix's Vault. Gryffindor's Sword would be a small price to pay, they had decided.

"Yes, we are doing this," Harry answered to Ron's initial call-out. Ron's eyes opened a fraction at Harry's reply, probably having thought that Harry hadn't been paying attention to them while he conversed with Draco. Hermione wondered when Ron would get over the feeling that Harry would abandon him at the prospect of a new friend.

Lately, she just wondered a lot about Ron… She never quit wondering how he, himself, had abandoned them. Abandoned her.

Hermione sighed, hating the dread that filled her which was unrelated to their impossible task at hand.

"Griphook," Harry addressed the goblin. He nodded.

"Ron, Hermione."

They both nodded, and when Harry nodded in return, Hermione Disapparated them to an alleyway nearby to Gringotts.

It didn't take long for them to get ready. She downed the Polyjuice Potion, and waited for it to take effect, having already dressed in Bellatrix's clothes. In the meantime she charmed Ron's hair and eyes. She made adjustments that were sure to conceal any Weasley trademark.

She was casting an altered Notice-Me-Not charm that would distract any curious onlookers, when Ron spoke up.

He gulped, "You called him by his name."

Hermione finished her spell, but didn't step away. They were close. Ron was searching for her eyes.

"What?" Hermione asked, truly not picking up at his meaning.

Ron cleared his throat, his face turning to a bright shade of red. It wasn't matching with his hair for a change; Hermione had made him blonde. Not the platinum blonde of the Malfoys. It was more like the dirty blonde of…

Hermione caught up to his meaning. Seriously? Was this the time-

"Is this really the time, Ron?" Hermione breathed out.

"Sure it is the time," Ron rushed out. "We might not come out of there."

Hermione's breath caught up in her throat. She didn't want to think like that. She didn't want to think. Period.

"If we were to die," Hermione croaked out, "we would have died back at the Manor."

That was what Hermione had been saying for the past few days. How else was she going to continue to fight? How else was she going to look Draco in the eye? How else was she going to have faith? Faith for anything?

Ron looked away, uncomfortable at the reminder of her torture.

"You called him-"

"Thorfinn. It's his name," Hermione said. She wished to end the conversation, noticing from the corner of her eyes that Harry and Griphook were done.

"I don't know his name. How come you-!"

"He is a friend from Hogwarts!" Hermione cut him off, but she halted at what she'd just said. Friend? Had she ever considered Thorfinn Rowle as a friend? Apparently she had. Was it due to seeing his face first thing in the morning for her breakfasts in the Great Hall, or due to frequently crossing with him in the corridors, Hermione was not sure. Their only conversation had been when she had pulled him off a Ravenclaw's face, but still. He was one of those people you couldn't wish wrath upon. Sure, he had always gotten on her nerves but she used to have a secret moment of happiness whenever Slytherin won and Thorfinn Rowle did a flip with his broomstick to celebrate it. He deserved it, with how fiercely he practiced Quidditch. Hermione had always admired his dedication. It was just unfortunate that his studies never got their share of that dedication.

As perplexed as she was, Hermione confessed to herself once again that, yes, she had indeed thought of Thorfinn Rowle as a friend. Only barely passing the bar from acquaintances to friends, truthfully.

Ron looked furious at the prospect of even that, though.

"Friend? He bloody attacked us!" He spat, his nostrils wide to get enough air to calm down himself. "Don't go Harry on me. Not you too!"

Hermione, recalling the attack on Tottenham Court Road and realizing like a slap at her face that Thorfinn Rowle was indeed a Death Eater, failed to find an answer for Ron.

The Thorfinn Rowle she knew had perished behind a Death Eater mask, had he not? He had taken the Mark, attacking Muggle-borns and aiding the Dark Side.

He hadn't looked changed back at Shell Cottage though. He seemed like his usual self.

 _Draco wears the Mark, but chose to deflect_ , a part of Hermione protested. Also there was the whole issue with how Harry had saved Rowle and Dolohov from their fate at Malfoy Manor.

Hermione hated not knowing things, and Thorfinn Rowle's situation was exactly that: unknown. Harry hadn't explained her anything, and Ron had been reluctant to talk about their rescue mission yesterday night. Hermione realized now that his reluctance was highly likely due to his jealousy. Draco was right, jealousy didn't suit Weasleys.

Hermione Granger never formed any strict opinion over meagre knowledge. That, she thought, would be the poorest way to come to a decision.

"Guys?" Harry's voice shook Hermione out of her thoughts once again.

She had been staring at Ron's light blue eyes without uttering a word, she realized. She took a step back, and missed the pained look on Ron's face when she shot an apologetic smile his way.

"Let's go," Hermione announced and threw her alien black hair over her shoulder. Struggling to stand on high heels that were sure to be Bellatrix LeStrange's liking, Hermione came out of the alley, Harry and Griphook tailing her under the invisibility cloak.

Ron's hurrying footsteps came not soon after.

Hermione sighed with relief. Ron's presence eased her, just like having Harry with her. Despite their fights and disagreements, Hermione loved him dearly…

…perhaps not the way she had once thought to love him.

* * *

He was wet, hungry, and exhausted.

His luck had abandoned him two days after his escape from Shell Cottage. Alone in the woods was the best description Snatchers searched upon. Mudblood or not, anything on two feet was their target to snatch.

Idiots they were not, at least not quite as much as the giants. They knew how to cast a disarming spell. Thorfinn had lost Carrow's wand to one of those Snatchers one week in, escaping from them by the skin of his teeth.

Having lost his wand, it had become harder for Thorfinn to fend for himself. Not against the Snatchers, that was hell on its own, but against hunger and danger.

At least he could walk, his legs strong enough to carry him around. The tricky thing was that he had to renew the blood magic now and again to avoid any Calling, causing him to sport open wounds all over his forearms. He had prefered his Marked arm first, but he didn't use that very same sharp rock only to renew the spell.

On dark and desperate nights, the heat of the blood on his skin and the slight burn from the pain comforted him into believing that he was alive and still fighting, that he was doing fine.

That did little good to alleviate his mood on rainy days, though.

He would freeze, his teeth clattering upon every slight breeze, and he would feel the sticky air collapsing his lungs as though he was breathing liquid mercury.

This day was no better than the others, rainy as hell and quite blue. The only bright aspect of it was that it made you forget that there was a war raging on. Thorfinn had grown a liking into tricking himself that everything was roses and sunshine, though a part of him knew better.

He was sure two weeks had passed since he got separated from everyone, but all he knew was that it could be more.

He didn't want to do this _more._

He wanted to be home. He wanted the walls of the Rowle Castle surrounding him. He wanted to hear the tinker of Eadric's piano.

He wanted to see the trees and the sky when there was a broom underneath him, not when his feet touched the ground. That's what he decided: He hated the ground as it made him its prisoner. He'd prefer sky over earth, and perhaps even the sea, even when all hell broke loose.

However, for now, on two feet he seemed destined to be, walking until exhaustion closed his troubled mind.

Or until Death Eaters crossed his path.

Thorfinn couldn't admit to being lucky that day for having crossed paths with not five but only one Death Eater.

It was someone Thorfinn knew.

"This is it, Thor," Antonin Dolohov announced, standing at the mouth of the dingy pub's back alley.

The dry and warm pub had allured Thorfinn easily enough, and although he had no silver to pay for a soup, he had chanced going inside. He had learned that desperate times made him a fine beggar.

Tony had come inside when Thorfinn's shiver had just died down and his glass of piss beer was finished.

He had thrown a few tables in front of Tony so that he could escape from the back door. The bartender had been livid when Thorfinn had found strength in him to jump over the counter and act for the employee-only door. He had made it outside!

It hadn't been more than ten steps before Tony had sent an immobilizing jinx his way. It was the leg-locker curse. Damnit.

His face scooped the dirt, hands failing to grab onto anything that could have prevented his fall. How laughable was it that a first year spell had tripped him!

"You made the wrong choice," Antonin said. Thorfinn could have cared more if he was not busy spitting out the dirt in his mouth. Sad thing was that his stomach hadn't convulsed at the sight of a half-chewn insect on the ground where he had spit. Two weeks had caused some wondrous changes in Thorfinn. Not character-wise of course. His durability had increased, if nothing else.

"Well, it's at least _my_ fucking wrong choice, ain't it?" Thorfinn called back, groaning as he rolled on his back. He would look Tony in the eye and see whether he had the balls to send an Avada his way regardless.

"Just like when you were younger." Tony sighed, his boots stopped next to Thorfinn's shoulders. Thorfinn had to crane his neck to stare back at him, though Tony's wand pointing down was an adequate distraction.

The tip of the wand lighted with the familiar green tint, Thorfinn couldn't have been mistaken even with the rain getting in his eyes. It had been raining, probably have started before they exited the pub. Tony was already soaked, mainly his long hair though, since his coat must have had a drying spell cast on it. Thorfinn wasn't as lucky. Like he said, he had ran out of luck long ago.

A flash of light from the sky stilled the air for a moment, followed by the roar of thunder which ordered for continuity. This was not the end. Harry Potter lived, that Thorfinn knew.

Thorfinn's death wouldn't mean anything, except salvation for himself. He had been struggling for far too long for his like.

The first weight he had to carry as an eleven year old child had been the absence of his parents, especially ever since the day he shopped for his wand.

" _Ah, I remember your parents, boy!" Garrick Ollivander had explained to a young Thorfinn whose grandmother had been too ill to accompany him today. It was just him and Dammy, Thorfinn's house elf. "As if it was yesterday that Miss Leone MacDougal came to receive her wand. Ebony, ten inches, unicorn hair. Also your father, Brant Rowle, of course, I remember him, how can I not? You should have seen your grandfather's reaction to his Larch wand! That's the kind that screams Gryffindor, although your father was anything but. His wand was eleven inches, come to think of it, also had dragon string as its core... so as you look terribly like him, perhaps…?"_

Thorfinn remembered how he had spent more time than needed in that old shop. Not that he had outright asked Mr. Ollivander what he knew about his parents, but it had felt comforting to be there. Unlike in his home, knowing that his parents had been through here eased him to think that he wasn't alone. Here was lively, people came and went, wands were tried and sold repeatedly. It gave the familiarity of sharing an experience with his parents without smacking the truth in Thorfinn's face that they were gone. The silence of Rowle Castle precisely did that.

He had lost his parents too early in life. He had been forced to grow up, be an older brother to Eadric, be there for him in his first shopping trip to Diagon Alley or in his Sorting. Although he had had noone with him, he had aimed to be everyone for Eadric. In addition to a year of struggling with accomplishing such an impossible task he had given himself, Thorfinn had met with Neville Longbottom before his child heart knew how to forgive.

It was in Slytherin that he observed how the upperclassman solved their problems. It was in events where people like Lucius Malfoy attended did Thorfinn listen to political discussions. It was in Knockturn Alley where he actually came across that, no, it was not an issue to magic a Muggle-born to definite death.

Thorfinn thought back to all the times Tony had visited them in the Rowle Castle. He thought about their Quidditch practices, his assignments separate from school, the books he had required for Thorfinn to read, their duels to test whether Thorfinn was improving. He thought back to how Tony always had a good thing to say about the Dark Lord. How, because he was gone, world of wizards had stilled. No advancements. No improvements. No service. No nothing.

Thorfinn had taken the Mark. He had served the Dark Side. He had been there when Hogwarts was invaded. He had been one of those who set fire to the giant's hut or who interrogated half-bloods. A fine follower he had always been.

Then came Eadric's responsibility over Parkinson.

His death by her denunciation.

Thorfinn's helplessness as he watched his brother fall.

And then, Thorfinn had been assigned to capture Potter. Kind and selfless Potter. Hopeful and faithful Potter. A saint more like.

Also Granger. His task was to capture the lot of them. Potter, Weasley and Granger.

Hermione.

She had altered his memories, lengthening his delightful stay in the dungeons.

She was strong, with how long she endured the bitch, and a fighter. Definitely a fighter.

When Thorfinn had brought back the elder Weasley to pay back Potter's hospitality, Thorfinn had seen her, ferocity in her eyes as she slaughtered that Death Eater. He had seen the scare that flashed in her eyes once she realized that they were to separate, Thorfinn staying behind to fight.

Then he was all alone again. In the woods. Surviving.

He had come to this day. All those added together, and Thorfinn was here. Fallen, defenseless, hungry and goddamn tired.

Once, he had wanted to _live_. Now, he just wanted this over.

He was selfish. Salazar forgive him, but he was selfish! He would rather die here and be over with everything, even if it meant that every single person on the light side was sure to die.

He didn't care.

Tony was miraculously alive. After his punishment of failing the Dark Lord with bringing in Bill Weasley, all of his limbs were attached, and he didn't look like he was under Imperious either.

In Antonin's twisted little world, Thorfinn was sure, he was content where he was, on the good side of Lord Voldemort. Battling to make the wizarding world great again.

Thorfinn had only cared about him. Ever since having left him spasming on the Malfoy's floor, his guilt hadn't eased one bit. Until seeing his older brother now.

He was fine. Delirious but fine.

That's all he cared. Now that the guilt had sizzled away, Thorfinn knew that this could be it for him.

"Now or never, Tony." Thorfinn slacked his head and closed his eyes. Rain that washed his face calmed him down enough to make him smile. Potter had wasted his time on him! Not the way Thorfinn would have guessed initially, by his own betrayal; but still, saving Thorfinn hadn't meant anything in the long run.

Thorfinn was betraying his own word by asking for the final blow. He had an oath to pull Potter through the war alive, but…

He doubted he was the wizard to accomplish that. His best chance had probably been throwing himself between Potter and an Avada, but positive that the boy already had numerous people to do that for him, Thorfinn wasn't feeling too overwhelmed.

Thorfinn's thought vanished with the striking pain in his gut. He rolled over, but another blow came. He coughed.

"Your _wrong_ choice will get you killed then, eh?" Antonin crouched, fisting Thorfinn's hair, he made him listen. "That's what you want? To die? Although you're wrong? Change your mind and live, then. Come now, it shouldn't be _that_ hard!"

A sharp pain passed at the roots of his hair and Thorfinn gasped. Next, he was thrown to the ground again, his temple hitting the cobblestone.

"It was easier to tell me exactly that, I reckon."

Thorfinn raised his head at that. That had been different… that had been-

"Nobody ever left me to die. I had failed and it had consequences." Antonin grimaced. "Right now, you seem otherwise. Say, _sobrat_ , why would you die for those who have abandoned you?"

Thorfinn's head spinned. Not just because of what Tony had said, but probably the beer he had had was finally getting to his head. Also getting kicked and thrown every which way hadn't helped.

This was nonsense. Nobody had abandoned him! To be abandoned, you had to be a part of them first…

"Bullshite," Thorfinn spat out.

"You're at a wand-point." Tony's wand found Thorfinn again, the green light at its tip. "And I see no one around?"

"They are…" Thorfinn coughed. "...off fighting a war. They are going to win."

The last part was just to hurt Antonin, but Thorfinn saw that the man only smiled. "Will they? Not because you're helping, that's for sure."

Thorfinn snorted. He couldn't agree more. He wasn't of help to himself, let alone the Light side.

"As if I could…" Thorfinn mumbled, thinking back to his confisticated wand. Also the one he got stolen, the Carrows'. Things would have been different with his magic by his side.

He would have found Potter at first chance, for example.

Thorfinn had no idea how to be of any help, but trailing that boy and making sure that he didn't jump to a definite end would be something. He could have done that. He could do that.

Only if…

Thorfinn halted at his thoughts when he heard a clatter. Looking up at Antonin, he followed his gaze, finding a thin wooden stick that had rolled within Thorfinn's reach. It looked awfully like… like…

"It can't be-"

"I took yours along with mine," Tony said with content of having surprised him. It was the first lively statement coming from his deep and tired voice. Then he continued, "My Lord let my mistake slide. The one about the blood-traitor. Your and Malfoy's departure was more urgent. After that incident, my Lord also understood when I said I had to find you first, on the condition that I shall not disappoint him again."

Thorfinn's fingers that were about to grasp the wand stalled.

That could only mean one thing…

Thorfinn grabbed the wand, threw himself a few steps back, still on the ground, and raised the strongest shield he managed in this miserable state.

Cold licked his bones and there was an abrupt squeeze in his heart when he saw Antonin's stricken face.

They stared at each other for a moment. Antonin visibly gulped, cleaning his throat a few times before he managed to speak.

"I'm not Bella, _sobrat._ " Thorfinn nearly missed his whisper, with the rain pouring and all. Antonin was louder next time, "I'm not Bella. I'd never do what she did to your mother. I'd never… not even for my Lord. You and Eadric have been my family, my world."

Thorfinn lowered his wand, heaving as a weight lifted from his shoulders. Salazar curse it all, but the thought of having lost Antonin… the thought that he didn't see Thorfinn as a brother anymore… That he could, _would_ , hurt them. Willingly...

"I shouldn't have left you there," Thorfinn croaked out.

Antonin shook his head. "I would have stayed, regardless."

"We should have fled," Thorfinn said but seeing Antonin harden his expression at that, he corrected himself. "I should have fled. The night _he_ fucking killed my brother. I should have left the country. He can burn in the hell he's created, all he likes. I shouldn't have burned with him, not like Eddie. Not like Eddie. Not like how Potter will be."

Thorfinn wiped his face. He was wet and cold. The rain never stopped, always dampening his cheeks. Merlin's beard, he wasn't crying!

"Fucking Potter," Thorfinn added. "It's all because of fucking Potter."

"It's always about Harry Potter," Antonin agreed.

"Now, I can't leave. All because of him," Thorfinn said, having come to a decision. Actually finding strength within him to carry out that decision now he had his magic with him.

"I can't leave either. All because of _him_ ," Antonin stated.

Knowing that they meant two different people, Thorfinn only nodded. Antonin, too, seemed convinced that there was no turning back now.

Antonin offered Thorfinn his hand. While he helped him stand up, he added, "I meant it when I said that this was it, Thorfinn."

When Thorfinn questioningly searched for Antonin's eyes, he realized how disconnected he had been the past weeks about the happenings in the war. Having… _silenced_ his Mark, Thorfinn knew close to nothing.

"We've been called. Every last one of us. To Hogwarts," Antonin didn't wait for it to sink in. "I delayed going, wanting to find you, but…"

"This is it," Thorfinn whispered. It shouldn't have been a surprise that the final showdown was taking place at the school grounds, but all Thorfinn could think of was the kids. What had happened to all the students? Surely, everyone couldn't fight, there were small kids there!

A clap on his shoulder made Thorfinn focus back to Antonin. He was serious.

"Be careful." He took a step back, and repeated. "Be very careful."

Before Thorfinn could say anything, Antonin Dolohov Disapparated with a loud crack.

* * *

 **I'M BACK!**

 **Well, hello there! Hope you've enjoyed that. I've decided to continue this story without a beta, so let's pray that I'll do a fine job out of it. At that side note, I want to add that constructive criticism would be really appreciated.**

 **I have the sixth chapter ready, so I'll be posting it the next monday. (*CHEERS*) But after that, unfortunately, my updating schedule will be quite unpredictable :S**

 **Anyway, thanks for being patient!**

 **Ydream08**


	6. Chapter 6

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

Chapter 6

He could have gone home. Fuck all the Death Eaters who could be waiting to ambush him, with the Dark Lord having set a prize for his head.

With his own wand in hand, Thorfinn was sure he could take down an army.

So, yes, it had crossed his mind, going back home that is. He could eat, bathe, and sleep. He could pretend nothing was amiss. Getting ready a rucksack and enough money, he could flee afterwards.

Just like that, Thorfinn Rowle could have been far away from trouble, starting a new life in a distant continent.

Instead, Thorfinn got to fixing himself up. A few Episkeys here and there did wonders. Also breaking into a handful wizarding houses when he was back in Hogsmeade refreshed him to no measure.

He had been expecting to find the residents, waking them all up with his intrusion, ready to fight and take them down. His surprise had been quickly morphed into understanding that they must have fled, or joined the battle.

In that first house, Thorfinn changed his clothes, got himself a bag and filled it with any medical potions he could find. Drinking a few of them himself, Thorfinn only managed to fill the bag fully after the sixth house, if he counted correctly.

He would have left enough silvers to cover for his borrows, but alas, he was currently broke. The cheese and bread he had stuffed in his mouth were also unpaid.

He was hopefully going to come back here once everything was over.

Notice-me-not charms correctly in place, Thorfinn walked up to Hogwarts unseen. If he had known that wards of Hogwarts had fallen, that he could easily Apparate to the grounds, Thorfinn wouldn't have lost those precious minutes.

If he were to know that at that very moment, Harry Potter was walking to his death, answering Voldemort's call to come into the Forbidden Forest, Thorfinn wouldn't have interfered with three Death Eaters he had come across on his way to Hogwarts. One of them held a man under Crucio while the other two raped the girl. Killing two of them, Thorfinn had left the third one to bleed out, not wanting to waste his magic on the Death Eater of whom he had cut his wand arm apart. He had taken the wand just in case.

He hadn't saved those two victims. The girl, not older than twenty, was already dead. Thorfinn had assumed that they had just silenced the girl but… And the other victim, the man, had died in Thorfinn's arms, not even a coherent word coming from his mouth.

Had Thorfinn known better, he would have continued on to perhaps arrive during the truce, passing on his bag full of potions to Madame Pomfrey who was running low on medicine. He could have indirectly saved those in pain who were tended in the Great Hall. One potion meant whether someone survived.

However, Thorfinn had stopped and helped. Stopped and killed those whom he thought deserved to die. Not once, but numerous times had he stopped.

Harry had not stopped, though. His bold steps had led him to his nemesis, to his death.

* * *

One by one, closing her frozen fingers into fists, Nora Nott rose to her feet. The wind got hair in her mouth but she didn't hesitate when her blue lips formed the word.

"Dead."

The announcement stilled the air for a moment, those red slits of eyes searching her own and their beyond. She couldn't breathe, knowing that this was the end.

The loud cackle that echoed in the clearing was bliss to her ears.

* * *

No, no, no, NO!

It couldn't be… The heap in Hagrid's arms couldn't be him. No, God, please no.

"No," Hermione whispered, stumbling on the spot to be supported by Ron when she faced the truth that, yes, it was _him._

It was his sneakers and jacket. It was his ridiculous haircut she had given him on their run. It was his glasses, black and round.

It was him.

It was Harry, her Harry.

He couldn't have… couldn't have _died_?

The laughter, oh the laughter! Hermione could have killed all those standing across them, cackling like madman to their master's announcement that Harry was dead.

Her hold on the wand tightened as she mouthed spell after spell, trying to decide which one could finish this once and for all. Because, _she wouldn't stand by._ If only could she find an opening…

"Come forward and join us!..." Voldemort egged on, basking in the glory that he had killed a seventeen-year-old.

Hermione was going to mention that to him, a small detail to reshape his ego.

"...or die!" Voldemort added.

There was a silence. A silence in which Hermione only heard the pump of her heart in her ears. Her hand shook, just like her magical core did.

She itched to attack. But what spell? Where to aim at? Nagini slithering under his feet, Voldemort was visibly immortal still.

Take down the head, and let the rest fall. That was her only chance, though how she was going to do it, she had no idea.

She saw no way out of this, indeed, but her desire to aim her wand at Voldemort was overwhelming. Harry wouldn't have approved, but he would have done the same thing.

He had goddamn done the same thing!

Suicide.

Hermione was as daft as he had been, for even considering it.

"Neville." The soft whisper coming from Ron grabbed Hermione's attention. She listened to another round of laughter at Voldemort's joke. But, Neville, oh so brave Neville...

"... **He didn't die in vain** ," Neville insisted. " **But you will!** "

Hermione saw Neville reach out inside the Sorting Hat, but before she witnessed Neville unsheathing the Sword of Gryffindor, she saw a commotion to the left of the Death Eater lines. A vibrant green had lighted the backs. Hermione knew that spell very well, but she was perplexed at the notion that one of them were out to get their own men.

She had no further time to think on it though, as Neville shouted, " **IT'S NOT OVER!** "

The light caught the sword just as a flicker of movement brought out gasps. It was Harry. He had jumped to his feet.

He was on his feet, wand in hand, ready to fight. Very much alive.

" **Confringo**!" he shouted, aimed at the snake.

Hermione let her arm go of Ron's hold and raised her wand. It was not over.

* * *

Ginny turned a corner, shooting a _Bombarda_ to the ceiling of the corridor from which she came. She had effectively blocked the corridor. _For now_.

She should have picked a fight she could manage, but Fenrir fucking Greyback had asked to be fought. _Throwing away Lavender's limp body was going to be the last thing he ever did,_ Ginny had thought at the sight of him. It was just unfortunate that he had his cronies around.

Her well-aimed spells had fatally wounded two of five, but she was no master duelist. Trying to escape from them, she hadn't even noticed that she had gone downstairs, closer to the dungeons.

"I shouldn't have been surprised. It was _you._ "

It wasn't said to her, but Ginny halted at the voice. She saw a cloaked Death Eater, his back to Ginny, facing two people at the end of the corridor. Or was it three?

Behind a tall and slim guy with dark brown hair, hid two kids no older than twelve. None of the kids wore robes, but this close to dungeons, it didn't take to be a genius to guess they were Slytherins.

Ginny was unsure of what was going on. Slytherins were kept in the dungeons and young students had been evacuated as far as she knew. There was the possibility that some of them snuck back in, but it was highly unlikely…

"I sent you back to school this year so that you could be our eyes and ears. I'm disappointed, son. Even that Parkinson girl showed to be more trustworthy." The man nearly spat at the last words. His cold voice sent shivers down Ginny's spine even though she was not at the receiving end of those harsh words.

Gulping down her momentary fear, Ginny focused on the adrenalin still coursing her veins. Sure, her sweat had cooled down somewhat, and the exhaustion on her calves begged her to not interfere for once. There were three werewolves on her heels, not to mention!

Grasping her wand tighter, Ginny crept closer. The battle had been so hideous till now that Ginny was sure that she had even hit people on their own side. Darkness looming over them, dirt covering everyone's faces, it was hard to distinguish friend from foe. Yet, the scene before her gave away the odds.

Venomous maniac pointing his wand at unarmed kids?

Ginny shot a Stupefy, at the off chance that the Death Eater was unguarded, that would have been enough. She was ready for an all-out-duel regardless.

Reflecting her spell, the moment the man turned around, Ginny saw his greying hair and wrinkles upon his old skin. The man looked as though he had seen Voldemort's first rise to power. He probably had.

He was quick for his age. Not only was he maintaining a shield, he was throwing curses of his own relentlessly. Ginny wouldn't have been struggling as much if she wasn't thinking about the three Slytherins. They had gone under cover the moment Ginny took on the Death Eater, however it was not enough to protect them from deflected spells colliding with anything in their path.

She would have not minded, trusting that the guy protecting the kids would make sure they were unharmed. However...

The Death Eater sent a spell, Merlin help her but she had no idea what it was, she was just careful that she didn't get struck, but the following shrill cry was hardly muffled by the falling chunks of stone. One of the kids had taken the hit. _So much for trusting..._

Giny gritted her teeth, realizing that, yes, her slowpoke of skills in duelling was about to cost another life. Godric curse them all, but she couldn't handle after Lavender. She just… She just could not.

Deciding that it was time to up her game, she sent a spell that she had glimpsed in Harry's troublesome text book from last year. _**For enemies**_ **,** it was noted down.

"SECTUMSEMPRA-UUH"!" She had finished casting just when the Death Eater's own spell took advantage of her fallen shield and struck her on her wand arm.

It came to her upper arm, blood oozed from the gash immediately. But the most concerning thing was the _click_ sound her shoulder made at the impact of the spell, and suddenly her wand arm felt...lighter. She could hardly move her fingertips, thus why her wand fell down in a clattering noise from her grasp.

"Shit, shit-SHIT!" What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't continue to defend herself with her arm like this-

She rose her head upon hearing a _thud_. Tears stinging at the corner of her eyes, she saw that the man she had been duelling was lying on the floor. He was still where he lay, inside a pool of his own blood which spread as if to no end.

Ginny had raised her gaze just in time to see the last slash appear on the man's abdomen. It had happened just like that. Nothing visible had touched the man. He was simply cut open.

It was over.

Ginny had to take a moment- to have her breath in check, to blink away her swaying vision, calm down her hectic heartbeat, to get everything under control actually, and after waiting awhile, she found that she wasn't troubled at all.

This was a war and she would survive.

"Hey! He's.. It's over. Are you all alright?" Ginny finally manage to call out, wishing she knew where the guy and the kids were hidden. She hoped the kid who got struck, wasn't hurt badly.

Upon hearing a weeping for an answer, Ginny winced. Crouching to get her fallen wand with her right hand, she walked to where she heard the noise.

A low soothing voice came, "You're going to be fine. Here me? We'll go to St. Mungo's. Just hang in there-"

"How? We're stuck here, wandless-" demanded a young and angry voice, but whatever answer he was going to get was hushed by Ginny's arrival.

She first noted down the whimpering girl whose exposed legs, hands and face sported patches glistening with fresh blood. As she observed the girl's injuries, the patches widened. Her skin peeled off to reveal more bloodied muscles.

Ginny paled; unsure of what to do. She knew nothing on how to help someone inflicted with such a curse. In panic, Ginny's mind flashed to two emergency solutions of her own: vanish or stop.

That's how she had survived amidst Gryffindors. Did Fred pass her something which started to shake on its own? _Evanesco_ to vanish it _._ Did George set her parchment on fire thanks to his faulty fireworks? _Consedo_ to stop it from spreading further while she saved what she had so far written _._ Bubbling potion because Colin dropped a few more beetle eyes than needed? _**Another**_ _Evanesco,_ because she knew doing it from scratch is easier than saving it.

She would have cast _Consedo_ , the Stasis charm, in the hopes that it would indeed stop the patches from getting bigger. There was the likelihood of facing with a systemic effect, so the girl would be still as rock for the duration; however, unable to move her wand arm, Ginny couldn't cast even that simple spell.

Frantically, her eyes only glanced at the younger boy to quickly land on the older guy she had first seen. Roman nose, high cheekbones and his strong jaw were all familiar enough for Ginny to know that he was from her brother Ron's year. It was his hazel eyes, glinting under crossed thick brows, that gave away his identity. Theodore Nott.

Ginny knew him only by name because of her association with the upperclassmen. She had heard that he was the type to hide in the Slytherin common room, reading rather than socializing. She hadn't ever came across with him, nothing memorable at least. Till now, that was.

"Nott?" Ginny's confusion was still there when she huffed. Why wasn't he doing a bloody thing! "Cast Consedo on her, then we can get out-"

"I don't have my wand," Theodore cut in. Ginny didn't bat an eye as she offered him her wand.

He looked from the wand, then slowly to her face. "I…"

" _Consedo._ It might stop the curse for a while. Then we are taking all three of you out of here."

As Nott took care of the girl and the boy -she had indeed been frozen, much like being in full-body-bind -, Ginny thought out loud what they could do.

"Some of the exits are collapsed. Main entrance is swarming with battles… so that's a no. We can't Disapparate out of the grounds, still, - AH, _shit!_ "

Ginny hissed, not having noticed Nott turning to her to cast another _Episkey_. Her shoulder clicked back in its place, accompanied by a concerning crunchy noise of bones fitting back. Sharp pain shot from her shoulder till her fingertips and for a moment it was so clear that Ginny felt as though she could trace the hot, tingling feeling even when she had regained the use of her hand.

"Hurt like hell, you know!" Ginny shrieked, unsure whether to thank him. Instead, she wiped away a wayward tear. It had hurt.

"Your welcome," Nott muttered, but he seemed disinterested as he stalked off. Seeing that he was hovering around the dead body of their attacker, Ginny turned her attention to the kids.

"You're-"

"Slytherin." The boy glared as if to dare her to say something.

Ginny furrowed her brows and continued her sentence as if she hadn't been interrupted. "You're twelve? Or thirteen, right? Why didn't you go with the others when the school was evacuated?"

The boy gulped. "I snuck back in, knew father was going to be here."

Ginny was at a loss what to say. Her whole family was here, fighting for the Light Side, but it was the right thing to do so she had never considered the actual end-point of the day. At the very back of her mind she was aware that death was a hanging risk, but Harry's short-lived death -his revival, actually- had filled her with a sense that they had all conquered Death for today. It was a simple logic, really. They did the right thing, so they were going to survive.

She wouldn't know what to think for someone fighting for the opposite side.

The boy was Slytherin, so it was more likely that his father fought alongside Voldemort. In that case Ginny was unsure if his father was already dead or a killer; both were not options she wanted to the kid to delve on.

"It is more important that you are safe," Ginny decided on saying. She couldn't help the reprimand in her tone that resembled to her mother's, but she was angry. Not with the boy, but at the whole damned situation.

Realizing that Nott was taking his sweet time, Ginny went to his side. She had just opened her mouth to say they would better get going, when he flicked her wand and set fire to the corpse.

"He deserved it. Should have done it myself much earlier." He finally broke his intense stare from the flaming body to look straight to Ginny who was stunned beyond words. He offered her wand back. "Thank you, Ginny."

Upon hearing the gratitude, Ginny's eyes bulged. It didn't feel quite like he was thanking for saving their lives. She wouldn't have inquired, even if the howls of the werewolves hadn't interrupted them.

"Let's get out of here," Ginny said instead.

* * *

Ron's hands that were desperately clutching at Lavender's shoulders to shake her from her stupor lost contact when he heard a blast to his right. Next he knew, his back had hit to an adjacent wall, his vision skewed for a moment while his head echoed with the bang of getting the back of his head hit.

Lavender hadn't woken still. She lied there, motionless. Her open eyes staring unseeingly. It couldn't be. Ron didn't want it to be. She didn't deserve it.

"Get yourself together, Weasley!" shrieked a voice. "Surely you can cast your own shield!"

Ron barely registered the black haired girl latching onto his arm to get him up. His eyes looked for Lavender. Even with Ginny's interference, Lavender had…

"You have a death wish?!"

This time Ron registered who had spoken and his anger flared upon recognizing the girl. "Parkinson!"

"Such a genius." Ron was ticked off by the roll of her eyes. "Couldn't find Granger or Scarhead- you'll have to do. Help me with evacuating the Hospital Wing, yeah?"

"So you can take them all to your Dark Lord, Parkinson? I don't think so-"

Ron didn't exactly expected the stinging in his cheek or the ringing in his ears. She had slapped him.

"They are my family."

When Ron locked his gaze with her unwavering one, he saw the first ever sincere look on Parkinson's bright brown eyes. Scared and desperate, that's what she was. Hogwarts was her home, too, come to think of it. They all had spent their childhood here. Maybe even Parkinson had half the mind to not wish destruction. She had said she needed help to evacuate the Hospital Wing, right? That, Ron could do. Injured people needed proper attention and waiting could mean death to some of them. Madam Pomfrey could only do so much.

"C'mon."

Ron followed Parkinson and helped her to get everyone to safety. The battle was coming to an end, he felt it. He left Parkinson to the last injured people, having seen that Ginny was there at St. Mungo's where was apparently a safe zone, and joined Harry for the last fight.

He was there to see Lord Voldemort drop dead with a mundane thud. Ron Weasley would never forget that. Not unlike how he would not forget the look on Parkinson's face.

It occurred to him days later when the death toll was printed on the newspaper, that Parkinson had meant something a lot different than what he'd thought initially.

Arron Parkinson, Natalie Parkinson and Paulina Parkinson were all dead.

* * *

Hermione couldn't remember the aftermath of the war. She was tired, happy, devastated and wrecked, all at the same time.

Fred was dead. Collin too. And Lavender. Dean. Lupin. Tonks. And many more...

She was alone. Ron was with his family, Harry awkwardly standing by them. She didn't want to go there. She didn't want to see and accept…

Hermione had curled into a ball next to an intact wall of Hogwarts, another reason why that day was blurred.

She wouldn't have seen Thorfinn Rowle chained by Kingsley even if she had uncovered her head between her arms. He hadn't made a ruckus, nothing to attract attention. He could barely walk, how could he have shouted that, _Bloody idiots, he was on their side!_ That was how he was taken away along with the rest of the survivors of the war, the ones that happened to be at the wrong side and hadn't had the chance to escape. The rest - _the Light Side_ \- would be excused for the blood on their hands. But not Thorfinn Rowle.

Sent to Azkaban to wait out his trial, Thorfinn Rowle would suffer for his choices. All of them. Wrong _or right_.

* * *

 **Hello,**

 **I'm a bit impatient! (Well, that favored you :D) I have the seventh chapter finished (another reason why I posted this chapter earlier) and after that one hopefully we will see those 'post-war, flirtatious banter' I had promised in the summary.**

 *** Words in Bold are directly gotten from the movie, _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2._**

 **Hope you've liked it!**

 **Ydream08**


	7. Chapter 7

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

Chapter 7

Now that she thought about it, Hermione was shocked that she could consider herself even remotely smart if she had at one point thought it to be possible.

She had thought, _foolishly_ , that she could retrieve her parents' memories.

Why couldn't she? She had read everything she could get her hands on, books about memory charms, rolls of parchment about mind studies of the magicals and muggles alike, any remedy -potion, charm, ritual- that dealt with forgetfulness and dementia, and Hermione had even checked with Neville's Rememberball, thinking that if she got the grasp behind its logic, perhaps she could initiate a cascade for her parents to at least remember something that they forgot. Something really important. Like having a daughter.

She had known prior to casting the damn spell that Obliviate had no _accepted reversal._

Hermione blinked. Her mind jumped around these thoughts every night ever since her return to England. She had cried, shut down and slept, had nightmares about war and her parents. She always drained herself till that last thought.

 _Accepted reversal._

She had read, without a doubt, a passage on how it was observed that the victims of Cruciatus Curse had easier recollection of everything in general, but especially their past, childhood and happy memories. That was the last step before going mad. Once you couldn't help but remember -remember that time her dad had bought her a new locked-diary and a brand new pen, her mother pulling her to an embrace and explaining her how big girls took very good care of their teeth, remember the days she curled up under Harry and Ron's feet, them discussing Quidditch, her reading a book; remember laughing when Ron reminded them of a comeback Harry had pulled to Malfoy or Snape; remember that time in breakfast when she had asked no one in particular to pass her the honey, and two hands of her best friends extended her the bowls in a flash; remember, remember and relive those moments of overlooked happiness- , once nothing else was worth remembering, because there was so much pain, oh _so much_ pain, your mind couldn't make sense of these two contradicting sensations.

Even your mind had a limit. There was only so much pain you could bear while thinking you are happy and hopeful- because, _they will have a chance, I won't tell her a thing, I won't betray my friends, they will live, they can make it, Harry can finish this, if he is okay…_

It had been… concerning, Hermione thought back now, how she went to Australia to visit her parents regardless of not having a cure, and once experiencing that, no, they don't remember having a little girl with brown curls identical to their own, she had instinctively grasped her wand.

 _That_ had never been an option. Hermione Granger had done questionable things throughout her life, more in the war, but inflicting pain on her parents so that they can remember her?

She hated herself even now because she could admit to herself that she had thought the idea to be appealing. Because, _I want them back._

A sob wretched her already-fragile body. She shook under the heavy, dust-smelling blankets, crying once again even after she had thought herself to be drained. Her exhaustion didn't stand in the way of crying out till the last drop, it seemed.

She wished, just wished, for the tears to stop and her breathing to even out enough that she could sleep for once. Sleep to forget. How alluring it was now to Obliviate herself…

* * *

It was her screams that woke him up. He lost count how many times he was startled awake to hear her screams.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. Throwing the blankets, banging his door open and rushing to her was the most natural thing to do, just as well how he gathered her in his arms and hushed her while stroking her back.

"You're safe, I'm here. Everything's over." He had learned quickly that there were endless variations to what he was saying. He could talk all night for Hermione, and she would cry on his shoulder. Only when it morphed into a whimpering, Harry knew that sleep would come over closely.

Some nights it never did.

Harry had comforted Hermione after the war a lot, with how regularly she woke up with nightmares from the day of her torture. It had gotten worse even, after he thought visiting her parents could give her a closure of sorts. Harry had been mistaken it seemed, but it was of no importance.

These nights, while hushing Hermione into comfort, Harry had grown to like having her in his arms. She would clung to him so tightly, desperately, and he clearly saw how his presence soothed her that Harry gave himself the luxury to lift some of his own burden in these hours while he held her. Because it was never only her who cried because of the pain. It wasn't only her who felt the ache of loneliness, searching for someone's warmth. It wasn't only her who dealt with nightmares that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

When Hermione calmed down enough and snuggled Harry, he would smell her hair and kiss her at the top of her head. She would hold on to him tighter, so would he, and Harry would know…

They had each other.

* * *

"One more?"

"Please."

Hermione stepped in to find Ginny pouring a new pancake to cook. Harry was seated across the table, munching something that Hermione bet she would taste as dull. She had understandably lost her appetite. Not that Grimmauld Place smelling of fresh cooked bacon, eggs and pancakes instead of dust and rot wasn't tempting.

"Morning," Harry greeted her when she sat next to him. She nodded but she wasn't yet confident that her voice wouldn't sound rusty from all the screaming and crying from yesterday. Just at the thought, Harry nudged a mug closer to her. She nodded her thanks and took a sip, thinking how she hadn't noticed Harry standing up to fill it for her. It tasted mildy of honey. No milk. Just how she liked her tea.

"Here."

Hermione lifted her gaze from the plate newly situated in front of her to see Ginny finally getting seated. It was surprising to see her here, actually.

Hermione remembered seeing everyone in Grimmauld Place in the first weeks after the war. Once Harry had announced that it was the only place he could think of habiting, visitors had eagerly filled the place. Hermione had taken permanent residence in a heartbeat while the rest came and went. It was a refuge for most of the Weasleys, especially Ron and Ginny who were their closest friends.

Even that had to end, though.

Hermione didn't know exactly when they had all come to an agreement, but they were on the same page that everyone needed time for themselves. Ron had perhaps understood the first time Hermione had sought Harry for comfort instead of him when she had had an awful news. It was then and many similar moments Ginny had observed that were perhaps what made it clear that it was not the time for the matters of the heart.

They had survived, lost many loved ones but they had each other. They were friends above everything else. Only that mattered. It was easier to find solace in their familiar friendships.

Not to mention, those among them who sought more than familial love, unknowing for the rest of them, had found what they desired outside.

Another reason Ginny and Ron weren't around the past months.

Harry knew. Hermione had just arrived in England and wasn't privy of the news, but both Ginny and Ron had special people in their lives. It was only expected, Harry thought, after how long he and Hermione had shut themselves away.

Comforting, Harry knew, at the right time when somebody needed the most, drastically changed what you were capable of feeling towards that particular person. He had no doubt Ron and Ginny experienced the same thing.

"Hermione, feeling better?"

Harry's question was left unanswered as Hermione was having a hard time finding her voice. He was able to observe her mind stirring awake although she hadn't eaten a humanly proportion from her plate. It made him smile. Half a year wasn't enough to have her completely back, not after the last set back of her parents, but Harry knew that she would come back to him closely. It was a matter of time.

"Yes, better."

Harry covered her hand in his and squeezed, that was enough to make her smile, he knew. Ginny, who was busy eating, wasn't bothered by the act at all. Some time back, maybe she would have felt a tinge of jealousy even though she knew their love was platonic, but at the moment, she was just looking out for the right time to break the news.

"So," Ginny announced, grabbing their attention like she desired. "There is this small event that I would like the two of you to come."

Harry opened his mouth, about to say that he had a busy few weeks coming up with how the recently constructed Ministry required all the Wizengamot seats to be present for the trials of the war criminals, even those unrelated to Harry personally. Yes, surprisingly, there were criminals irrelevant to him.

Ginny, however, like a hawk preying on him, pointed her buttered knife at him. "Zzzt. No excuses. You'll be there."

Harry held up his hands in defeat upon which Hermione snorted at his antics. Ginny still knew her way around him well.

"You too," Ginny said now to Hermione.

"Well," Hermione might not have a valid excuse like Harry aside from not wanting to do anything at the moment, but at Ginny's raised brows, she relented. "Sure. Whatever you say, Mrs. Weasley."

Harry sniggered while Ginny had an amused smile on her face. It was a good old joke, how they compared Ginny to her mother at such occasions. Both demanded complete obedience and preferably no excuses.

"Oh, laugh, will you?" Ginny said jokingly. She shot a humorous glare in Harry's way who currently choked on his bite. "I'll need all the help I could get, once mother learns that…"

"What?" Harry corrected his glasses and only after asking the question did he swallow his bite. Seriously though, Hermione was amazed at his manners. Ron had finally and completely rubbed off of him.

Ginny put her fork and knife away, and searched their eyes silently for a few moments. Hermione could see the excitement in her eyes, the gleam to them brighted her freckled face and a faint blush appeared on her cheekbones and neck.

"I'm getting married."

Hermione knew that she hadn't heard it wrong, but she was desperate for Ginny to repeat herself. It didn't sound like a joke, not that such a matter could be, but with how abstract marriage sounded to Hermione, she was at the verge of being really rude because she was shocked out of her wits. With her creased brows and somewhat displeased expression, it was fortunate that Harry was quick to ask the question first.

"WHAT?" Harry sounded of pure shock and bewilderment. Not how Hermione's feelings were tinted with fear, perplexion or disgust. Marriage? _Really?_

"You're not kidding?" Hermione managed to ask finally. She could not relate less to a friend right now. Sure, having a family sounded like pure bliss, something she heartily desired with how she had lost her parents. If not for Harry, she would have felt completely unloved.

Still. That was not the love Hermione desired at the moment. She wanted her mother to stroke her hair and her father to embrace her. She wanted to hug Harry tightly because even if she was devoid of her parents, she had a brother she loved deeply. Familial love. That's what her heart ached for. But again, that was her.

Ginny Weasley, although she had lost a brother and mourned him, had a family of her own which had been the most supporting after the war. The Weasleys, upon Fred's death, had connected even closer, none of its members ever being without another family member next to them, or ever missing out family breakfast or dinner.

This was a love Ginny was acquintained and recharged with, but it seemed, she had desired something more and found it.

"Nope," Ginny said. For Hermione's surprise, the redhead seemed not offended at her tone or question. "I know it must be… it must sound unusual for you, it would to mother and dad as well I guess, the exact reason why they won't know about it- but I'm sure."

Hermione nodded, never leaving Ginny's gaze. She thought she understood. She could attend. For her.

Ginny shifted her gaze to Harry. "It's next Saturday."

Harry pulled away his chair and walked around to hug Ginny. "I'll be there. Hermione too. Before I forget, congratulations!"

"Yeah, congratulations."

When Ginny left after making sure the news wouldn't spread, ' _Really, it is going to be between us.',_ Harry, too, gathered around to leave for the Ministry. The trials would start today, not a day Harry would get away without his attendance.

Hermione got to tidying the kitchen. She would go the library afterwards, like she did most of the days, but particularly this day, it took her longer to throw herself away into the secure confines of the library. Books surrounding her wouldn't give her the answer to how love from a stranger could ever fill the void left by her parents, or even if Hermione ever wanted it to be filled. Naturally, she craved for and insanely missed her parents' love, as a result she wanted to be loved and cared for, like how her mother would tuck her in bed when she was sick, but could that be a solution? What Ginny found?

It wouldn't be. At least, not for her.

* * *

"Yeah, why not? Imperius could be cast, no matter you are fifty feet underground. Dead." Harry's grumbling was somewhat hidden as he leaned to his left to stretch. It wasn't coincidence that the Greengrass seat was in that direction. "Bloody idiot. They won't fall for it, right? Put him off all charges because he was _Imperiused_?"

Daphne Greengrass, heiress to the Pureblood family after her father's _untimely_ death, rolled her eyes at Harry's remark, but she hardly changed her posture to face him.

Harry and Daphne had turned into what Harry would like to call friends as hours spent in the endless trials were stimulating for Harry in a way that he wanted to comment on everything being said, much milder than Lee Jordan's commentary, mind you.

It had happened one or two days after Ginny had come to invite him to the wedding. It was his third day of filling the Potter seat and at a point when he was going to die of boredom, he had chosen to speak with the girl. She had been in the same year in Hogwarts, had never talked, but Harry was few with options. Her or the empty Selwyn seat to his right.

Harry hadn't been expecting for Daphne to respond but she had. He had said something similar that time as well. He was complaining, but sarcasm was his means. She had stared at him, lifted an eyebrow and _smiled._

He was gobsmacked, and that was saying something as Harry had just recently witnessed Malfoy sobb after his hearing. He had avoided going back to Azkaban. Harry had had something to say about that. Six months of waiting his trial there was enough.

"Somebody's their usual funny self," Daphne said as she rose to her feet. Harry hadn't noticed the hearing was over. Break time, it was.

It was an instinct to shoot right to his feet and follow her out. He would walk so close to her that from the outside it looked like he shielded her. His darting glances to the crowd wasn't actually helping. Harry trusted no one, especially the lot flocked here for the trials, and he had grown… a liking to Daphne. Right.

"Manners, Potter." Daphne chastised him but the amused tone to her voice eased Harry discomfort. Slightly.

"Sorry, I just can't help it."

"That's a sweet lie."

"I'm always honest when it comes to complimenting you." A stranger's voice answered Daphne. The owner of the voice was a new addition to Harry's company, Theodore Nott would always be around of Daphne, but somehow he and Harry had never talked. Just like at the moment.

"I know how honest you are, Theo." The roll of her eyes earned Daphne a faint laughter in no time, and then she and Nott were talking about one thing or the other.

Harry hadn't tried to keep up with the conversation. He didn't even know why he was still in their company.

From the window they were standing next to, sun shone and brightened Harry's eyes. Shielding from the light with the back of his hand, Harry saw blond hair slowly shift as Daphne shrugged at something Nott was saying. Seeing that the two were fine together, Harry excused himself.

Losing the warmth of the sun with every step towards the deeper floors of the Ministry, Harry pondered over the endless questions that never left his mind. Trials never wholly distracted him, nor his Auror training ever had.

Only at nights, when Hermione was in his arms, did Harry ever forget anything if at all… It was her scent and warmth. It was how she clung at him. He never thought of anything else in those hours.

"HARRY!" The voice didn't startle him as much as the sudden grip on his shoulder. He had drawn his wand, but upon seeing a familiar face, Harry lowered it.

"Oh, hey, Bill." After correcting his glasses, they shook hands.

"Hey. Something on your mind? I've been calling after you-"

"No, just a long day." Bill looked much paler today. He was stressed. "What about you? You alright?" Knowing that Fleur was pregnant, Harry jumped to a haste conclusion. "How's Fleur? Is there something-"

"Harry, no worries." Bill smiled this time. "Ron is with Fleur today. He got a day off from the training. They must be off shopping, too, if Fleur really did convince him. You know how persuasive she could be."

"I know how much Ron hates shopping, though."

The two men sniggered, imagining the whining Ron had put up to dissuade Fleur Weasley. _Not very much helpful, it must have been_ , Harry thought.

"Actually, I'm here today in dad's place," Bill intervened Harry's train of thought. Harry hadn't noticed Arthur's absence today. Now that he thought about it, it was odd. He hoped Mr. Weasley wasn't feeling ill.

Bill must have seen through him as he was quick to explain. "He is fine. I volunteered to come in his place. Since I'm the eldest child, it shouldn't be a problem. I couldn't have sat back when Rowle's trial was to be heard today."

Confusion was, again, plainly written all over Harry face. "Thorfinn Rowle?"

Once or twice, Harry had thought about the senior Slytherin since the war, but it was never troubling thoughts. He had saved him from the Malfoy Manor and Rowle had rescued Bill, something for Harry would forever be grateful. Also, if it weren't for Rowle who had brought Malfoy that day, Harry would have never trusted his childhood nemesis. A realization that put him in shame whenever he remembered how Draco had saved Hermione, and had her back throughout the final battle.

So everything considered, Harry and Rowle were even, so to speak, and at the very back of his mind, Harry had always thought him to have escaped. Harry hadn't seen him at Hogwarts that day, and he had been sure that he was living the happy life of a free-man.

Harry wasn't aware that he had a trial today, let alone having been imprisoned.

"Dad mentioned it yesterday, it's the reason why I came. He saved me, you know. If there is anything I can do to help him…"

Harry nodded in understanding. The two of them walked back into the courtroom upon the announcement that the break was over. They talked about the outcome of the trials, Harry relaying recent developments and short bits the press didn't generally include. Bill, on the other hand, filled Harry in on the rights of the Wizengamot seats with how their topic of discussion eventually came to being the Head of Family. Arthur apparently wanted to step down from the responsibility. Another reason why Bill would be frequenting from now on.

"Well, it doesn't feel like I'm doing anything," was Harry's first response to Bill asking about his experience. It had nearly been a week and the most prominent event had been Harry's interference with Draco's case.

"You don't need to, that's why." Bill's plain explanation wasn't enough, so he continued on: "The Wizengamot divides to three, Harry: Chief Warlock, Nonpartisan Jury and the Head of Houses. The last being us. In routine trials, it's rare for us to be present.

"The Nonpartisan Jury -they could be Ministry people, the reason they are called 'nonpartisan' is that none are Heads of an accepted house- pleads the person in question as guilty or not, and the Chief Warlock would make the final decision accordingly.

"So, see, no mentions of us there. However, because of Ancient Laws, we hold a seat and can observe, review or interject to any trial. What I'm trying to say is that the Chief Warlock gives that final decision, _but_ , Heads of Houses in the Wizengamot must approve for the decision to be carried out."

"You mean, I can overrule a decision?" Harry couldn't believe that he was unaware of this the past week. Remembering how he conversed with many people, Kingsley, Daphne and Arthur among those, he wondered why none of them felt like sharing this tidbit of information.

Harry was shaking his head, thinking that, _hopeless, the lot of them_. He and Bill were in the courtroom now, so Bill cautioned for them to speak lower. People were slowly coming back.

"If you object, since you hold the Potter seat, the Wizengamot would be forced to go for a voting. Without any objections, the Heads are thought to favor the decision by default. Probably why Malfoy was the first one to be released- trials so far hold no significance for the seats, so when you spoke up for him, you forced for a voting-"

"Only time there was a voting at our side, now that you mentioned it."

Realization dawned on Harry, but before he could learn even more, attention was called and Bill had to leave to his own seat quite afar from Harry's.

Once again the courtroom was called to attention, and Harry watched as people finally settled down and hushed. Daphne was already seated when he came, so Harry had absentmindedly nodded to her and sat down.

Pursing his lips, Harry attentively observed the next hearing. Scabior, leader of the Snatchers, was brought for questioning. Harry knew the guy well. He was the one to drag them to the Manor that notorious day that Hermione still had nightmares about. It was a miracle the man was alive, or captured for that matter.

The trial proceeded smoothly. His crimes were counted out. He was given chance to defend himself or bargain for information. The jury found him guilty, and the Chief Warlock decided on ninety years of stay in Azkaban. He hadn't had a successful bargain.

None of the Heads objected.

The prisoner cage descended, indicating the end of the trial.

"And now, the next trial will be of," announced the Chief Warlock. "Thorfinn Hakon Rowle."

It was a sight Harry didn't expect.

Six months after the war, people slowly picked up with their lives. The dead were buried, injured were healed and all that was left were scars. Even sorrow was cleared away with smiles and laughs. Most people found peace in daily life. _Most._

There was nothing _healed_ about Thorfinn Rowle.

Harry rose from his chair and walked the closest he could get. He saw Rowle struggling to stay standing. His legs trembled and he swayed slightly, with enough room the former Slytherin could have fallen on his knees, but alas, the sharp spines at every square of the cage gave him little space. His head had dropped, chin resting on his breastbone, and Rowle didn't seem to possess enough strength to look up. Harry couldn't see his face with how his long, dirty hair and beard covered it. He looked as unkempt as Harry had found him in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor. He was thinner this time, the striped Azkaban robes loosely hanging to his lanky frame. It was ripped at places, smudged and off-coloured, the lower especially filthy. At first Harry couldn't put his finger on the occasional brownish stains all over Rowle's clothes, concentrating mostly at the sleeves, but when a blur of movement caught his eye, he understood. Even now, blood dripped to the floor of his cage.

"...act of incendiary on Hogwarts grounds. Raids to Muggle neighborhoods, known to torture, and witness the killings. Loyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Took the _Mark_. Later on, known to attack one Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley in the Tottenham Court Road. Attempted murder and over ten recorded murders with the Killing Curse. Confisticated wand _evidenced_ the use of the Killing Curse upon casting _Prior Incartato_. Lastly, suspected of break-ins to the six houses in Hogsmeade."

Harry didn't much listen after that as they gave details to Rowle's listed crimes. Names and faces were given to all those suspected to be killed by him and he was expected to confirm. Not a single defendant came. It was only Rowle and his silence, he had made no sound of affirmative.

Harry was glued on the spot, thinking how he had broke Rowle free from the Malfoy Manor. Ron might have been right. Perhaps Rowle hadn't deserved to be freed. His crimes being listed, and not one sentence uttered to convince his innocence gave Harry little confidence. But it didn't change the fact that this whole thing didn't sit well with him. What about that time Rowle had rescued Bill? Nobody mentioned that. He had gone alone to a rescue mission and for someone whom he barely knew! He hadn't been forced to do it, he hadn't been asked to on any condition or reward. Moreover, nobody spoke of how he passed intel to the Order during his stay in Shell Cottage. He had even done the chores, attended Hermione and even sparked Harry's sorrowful mind into thinking.

If he had been imprisoned in the Final Battle, Harry doubted that Rowle had fought for the Dark Side. He must have been with them. _Draco_ had been on their side. Rowle surely-

But, still. All the other crimes they had listed on his name… Thinking harder, Harry felt conflicted. Six months of Azkaban had done Rowle no good, and Harry wasn't blind to see that sending him back in there would mean definite death. The senior Slytherin seemed to have paid for his crime already, what more did the Wizengamot want?

Harry hadn't noticed that a decision was already made when he heard someone say, "I object."

There was a silence in which every head turned in the direction of the clear and sure voice. It was Bill.

"As the holder of the Weasley seat, I call for a voting for a retrial. Those in favor?"

When Bill turned to look back at the seats, it was Daphne who rose a hand first. Many followed afterwards, with Harry not being an exception. Thorfinn Rowle had requested an out from the Death Eaters, and he had proved himself when he rescued Bill. One more chance, Harry could give him. Not to mention, he suspected those who had been at the receiving end of Rowle's wand had done worse, _much worse,_ things.

Later, Harry learned that Bill had already contacted a prosecutor, but hadn't had time to rehearse a good defense for today. It was something the Ministry would lack, Bill had confessed to have guessed.

Five days later, Rowle would have a fair trial of which Harry would be a witness. Harry was positive that something along the lines of house-arrestment or magic-binding instead of Azkaban could be arranged. Thorfinn Rowle had helped as much, if not more, as Draco who had a similar sentence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Paying the Debt**

 _by Ydream08_

* * *

Chapter 8

"At least you are not crying as well," Ron muttered, his hands going absentmindedly to grab a cupcake to stuff in his mouth. Next, he spoke with his mouth full, and for the life of her, Hermione couldn't decipher what he was saying.

It had been long since Hermione got out of Grimmauld Place. It was actually a miracle, she conceded. If it were not for Ginny's wedding today, Harry couldn't have convinced her out of the secure Black Library.

"Yeah?" Ron asked all of a sudden, having swallowed his bite. Hermione scrunched her face at him but the longer she looked, the easier it was for a warm smile to stretch her lips. Ron was as she remembered him. All those years back, before _Lav-lav_ or even the Yule Ball. The same honest eyes, sheepish grin and eager stomach.

"Oh, Ronald." Hermione's giggle made his smile even the wider.

"What, Mione?" He shrugged. "You weren't listening, were you?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes tiredly but fondly finding the wed couple.

Ginny wore beautiful white robes, slender and fluid, its tail sweeping the ground. Her hair was done up in a loose bun, decorated with pearls and glitters. She looked magnificent, even better in the arms of the groom, contently dancing to their song.

"I didn't know," Hermione murmured out of nowhere. "They look in love, though. Nott must have swept her off her feet."

It was Theodore Nott, their former classmate from Slytherin, who had said yes to a life forever with Ginny. His eyes never leaving hers as they swayed to the rhythm, and an everlasting smile that reflected in Ginny as well, declaring that what the two of them had was sincere and genuine.

"With all this rush and secrecy?" Ron retorted. "You bet."

The two best friends never commented on how Harry had been sulking at a corner since the start of the wedding. The reason why Ron and Hermione were conversing with each other actually- another miracle of today.

"I'm glad that Ginny is the happiest I've seen her." Perhaps Hermione shouldn't have said it, but she knew Ron was aware how she stared at Harry. She couldn't understand Harry; he had no reason to drown in misery. He had let Ginny go.

"She is truly in love, and put the past behind her," Ron commented, picking up Hermione's line of thought.

Hermione turned to Ron just when he downed the rest of his champagne. This was not a light conversation that suit to his liking, apparently.

"Why did Ginny invite us?" Hermione blurted out. Ron blushed instantly and avoided her eyes. The way he sighed was a clear indication he thought the question rather problematic to answer.

"Honestly? I think she is bloody nuts. In a way, she wanted to show him what he's lost, you know. She is over him and wants him to witness it, I think. Like I said, crazy, if you ask me. I mean, they had never been _friends_."

Hermione nodded, processing what Ron has just said.

"It's not the same thing as, say, I invite _you_ to _my_ wedding. You've been my best mate, shared seven years together. We were friends before everything else." At that Hermione rose her brows. She shrugged though. She could agree with that.

"You're right."

Hermione watched Ginny and Nott's dance after that. It was entrancing. The way he twirled her, pulled her close, smiled at her. He occasionally whispered to her ear, made her smile. He kissed her forehead, squeezed her hand and sighed in content. Ginny, too, had him close, never once straying her gaze from his. Always searching and finding what she looked for. Sometimes sliding her hand from his shoulder to his chest, making sure he's there. Strong and real. Her hand then traveled to his neck, her thumb stroking his cheek further up as she assured him with promises, Hermione could guess.

They promised each other the future.

In arms that were not confinement, but trust; in a gaze, that was not pressure, but support; in promises that were not lies, not hopes, but aims…

Hermione yearned to experience the same, she realized. All those feelings and expectations from life that she had forgotten- _dismissed_ actually- upon the death of her parents resurfaced. She wanted it. To be loved.

Her attention from the couple was drawn, however, when she spotted from the corner of her eyes that a certain black-haired man had tried to get to his feet, accidently toppling over his own chair.

"He needs me," Hermione declared, sighing at the sight of her drunk friend. _Love can wait._ "Can you pass my congratulations to Ginny again? And tell her we had to-"

"Yeah, of course. Are you sure you don't want help?"

Hermione would have rathered Ron run to Harry and help him instead of her, but she was aware that this was an important day for him. It was his little sister's wedding, and frankly, Harry had no right to ruin it whatsoever.

"I've got it."

Of course, it was easier said than done. She helped Harry to his feet, draping his arm over her shoulders so that she could support his weight better with her own arm circling his torso. He was heavy and drunk. And sad.

"It's not fair," he mumbled to her ear. He sighed nonstop and had to stall before pronouncing every word as though he worked to imagine how they'd sound. "I'm happy for Ginny, really. But, you know, she never looked at me that way."

"Harry, Harry— just stay on your feet!" Hermione exclaimed as Harry let all of his weight on her.

When she gathered their footing, Harry looked straight into her eyes. "You never looked at me that way, too, Hermione. Look at me— no, not like that. I'm not dying, thank you very much."

"Harry—"

"Girls love scars, I have one, you know. Right-" -his fumbling hand found his forehead and he got his hair out of the way- "-here."

"Harry, we're going home."

"Oh? That was fast. Alright, lead the way." Harry gigled, his glasses sliding a bit on his nose. "I'm not going to play hard to get."

Harry winked at her. Harry bloody Potter, her long time best mate winked at her.

Hermione didn't wait a millisecond to _Disapparate_. It was either a sober-up potion, or a good night's sleep for Harry. She would have no protests.

"But, Hermione, the Quidditch match! It's gonna air in five— why don't you open the TV?"

That was his babbling when she was tucking him to bed. Hermione could understand his devastation. It was not for Ginny, in the end. He yearned for love just the same as her.

That's why Hermione didn't make a fuss when he got a hold of her wrist and whined for her not to leave him. She gave in when he tugged her into the bed and even offered his own blanket. It wasn't like they never fell asleep together, nearly every night when he came to console her, they spent the night together to chase away terrors.

Harry was her everything. Hermione couldn't imagine life without him. And it wasn't only because it was Harry who urged her to freely be whom she wished to be. She had always stood tall in face of ridicules and insults, but Harry had been the one to evidence her that _constantly_ standing her ground wasn't for nothing. It was important. It was who you are, and there were those who appreciated you for your unwavering personality. _You_ could appreciate yourself in the end even if you were exhausted physically or mentally because of your effort.

All those lessons Harry had taught her aside, it was the fact that he was her brother that sealed the deal for her. Her life would be as broken as without her parents if he were to be out of her life.

She brushed his hair out of his forehead and thought about all of these. She had put his glasses on the nightstand, so he would look at her with narrowed eyes if he ever did. He was really sleepy.

"I wouldn't know what to do without you," Hermione whispered. She was about to cuddle him and welcome sleep as she was exhausted herself, but Harry made the first move.

He pulled her close and touched his lips briefly to hers.

Hermione froze, but her mind repeated that it was alright. Her drunk friend was overly expressive at the moment and the kiss didn't mean anything. He would fall asleep now.

She could try and lie to herself only until Harry dipped again and this time didn't back away immediately. His lips were soft, Hermione noticed. But even that thought was alarming to her, just as how Harry darted his tongue to lick her bottom lip. She gasped, inadvertently giving him access to deepen the kiss.

The alarm bells in her mind finally kicked in and she firmly pushed him away. Her ears were buzzing as she threw the blanket off of her and herself out of the bed.

"Herm-"

Hermione twirled around at the sound of her name, but she was already a good five meters away from him.

She was not going back to bed with him, not tonight. Not for some time either.

"No, Harry. It didn't happen." Hermione was aware of her teary eyes and clogged nose. She felt gobsmacked, not sure how to proceed with this and suddenly feeling lonely more than ever.

Hermione fled the room, her mind berating herself, her luck and her parents for having left her by herself.

The uproar in her mind, as a result, made her miss Harry calling after her. When she couldn't hold it in any longer and sobbed on her way out, she had no chance of hearing Harry's whispered cursing.

* * *

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE MARRIED, RONALD WEASLEY?!"

Hermione stopped at her tracks at the screech. Perhaps it was not the best time to visit the Burrow. But she had so dearly wanted to confide in Ron. Something quite extraordinary if everything was to be considered, but it was not like she could go to Ginny.

"Mum, she is happy-"

"-She better be! Marrying without us knowing! I'll have a word with her-"

Her knocking was luckily heard and it was George to welcome her intrusion to their small argument.

Ron was swaying on his feet. He was lightheaded, obviously. Hermione could guess that was the reason why Molly Weasley was privy to the news of Ginny's wedding.

"Hermione, dear, is something wrong?"

She was already silently crying but Molly's motherly voice broke her vells. When the Weasley matron rushed to embrace the curly haired witch, forgetting about her drunk son and crazy daughter, George found it a chance to scurry away to his room, dragging Ron beside him.

Some time later, Hermione didn't know how she ended up sitting at the couch, crying on Bill Weasley instead of Molly. She remembered noticing the shift, and Molly whispering something about preparing tea, but Hermione had hardly cared that she was hugged by someone else.

Her hair was stroked, the arms around her torso never leaving and soothing consolation tirelessly given. It reminded her of her parents. It reminded her of her mum and dad. _They are gone._

So she cried harder.

"Duck, look-up. Mum has brought some herbal tea. It will make you feel better," Bill said when her crying eventually morphed into quite whimpers.

Hermione sighed, trying to calm herself. She felt drained. Empty. She forced herself apart from his warmth, sniffling and wiping her face.

When he brought the tea nearly to her lips, Hermione had no choice but to accept.

"Drink." Bill ordered. "Here take a chocolate, too. Works wonders on me."

It was miracle of a change, really. Hermione was warmed up immediately, her throat feeling much better and her head clearing slightly. Then the chocolate? Well, summed up, it was pure bliss.

"Whatever that happened," Bill started again. She liked that he filled the silence, being distracted was the best for her at the moment. "It is certainly not worth crying yourself over. These are happy days, duck. War is over, we're safe, Ginny got married. Not to forget, tomorrow Rowle will be released as well."

Her head snapped in Bill's direction, her eyes wide and the chocolate frozen mid-way to her mouth, she sputtered. "T-thorfinn?"

"Yeah. Do you know him? He was in Slytherin. Third year when I graduated, but I'm not sure if you-"

"I was in fourth year when he graduated," Hermione provided. It was not the only reason she was acquaintanced with the man. It felt so long ago that they had come across at the Shell Cottage. She thought about him occasionally. She would cease her wondering when her dread for the former Slytherin turned into _mourning_. She hadn't known if he had survived.

This was the first time she had heard of him since the war, actually.

Bill continued, "He rescued me when Dolohov kidnapped me. You were newly recovering, so you might not remember. I owe my life to him."

Hermione knew that he and Fleur were expecting since before the Battle. She was in the last trimester.

"He is a good bloke, Hermione. Back at the Battle, he got my back even. We were separated, though. And with Fred…"

Bill closed his eyes for a moment and gulped. It could have been over half a year since the Battle of Hogwarts, but the wounds were still fresh.

"I lost sight of him. I didn't know he was sent to Azkaban, until recently. Had to help him, you know."

Hermione nodded. "What happened?"

"Six months of Azkaban and only last week he had his trial. I objected to his sentence, Wizengamot seat and everything. We had the retrial two days ago. Better sentence this time, and he was sent to St. Mungo's directly. Tomorrow he will be discharged and his official time will start."

"Which is…?" she pressed. What was with Weasleys and their lack of explanations? She was dying out of curiosity here!

"One year of house arrest, three years of being magic-bound, and for the following five years his wand will be monitored bimonthly."

Hermione released the breath she wasn't aware that she was holding. "That's great news."

"Yes. He will be free of all charges in five years, overall. So, as I told you, these are happy times."

Bill cocked his head, taking her chin in his hand and smiled for her to mimic. "Smile, duck. It will only get better."

* * *

Hermione didn't return to Grimmauld Place. The Burrow was welcoming, sure, but it didn't feel right to stay the night there either.

Her feet eventually dragged her to her childhood home. The one she exited a year and a half ago, having recently wiped her parents' memories.

It was quick to cast detection spells and a few others just in case stray Death Eaters or the like lurked in the shadows.

Afterwards she entered the dark, dust-smelling house. The eerie silence of the night put her on guard but her stranded nerves did little good for her to think clear. She didn't check the whole house- her spell had said it was empty.

What she did was to directly go the living room, lie down the couch and transfigure a cardigan into a blanket. She curled up there, and tried to fall asleep, with her usual protective wards already set in place.

The next morning came early. Hermione couldn't sleep when sun persistently shone on her. Not that she had a deep sleep during night, anyway.

Determined that she was not going back to Grimmauld Place in the near future, Hermione pushed all her grief and loss, buried them to the depths of her soul, so that she could go around her home and make it livable again.

It was quite. Really quite.

She didn't like listening to her own footsteps, or how static each room she left was. Opening the TV didn't help either. That's why when she was finished with her cleaning charms, and warding the house in a larger scale, she restocked her beaded bag and left the house.

She had a place to go today and somebody to visit.

* * *

Everywhere bloody ached. Not to mention, he had no power whatsoever to even open his eyes.

He wanted to sleep again. Sleep he would, if it were not for the dumbass that tirelessly chattered at his bedside.

"Warrington," Thorfinn forced himself to wheeze out. It was Cassius Warrington sitting at the chair by his bed. Talking about this or that. For Salazar's sake! "Shut up."

"Thor, mate, this is boring. You lying down all day."

"Could have stayed in France, then." Thorfinn groaned. He shouldn't be complaining that his old mate had come to help him with his discharge from the hospital, but he was making the whole process taxing on his nerves.

It was a ridiculous coincidence that Warrington's contract with his Quidditch team had ended after the summer season. He had played professional Quidditch after their graduation, scoring a place at the French National Team. Of course, he had waited out the aftermath of the war to quiet down before coming in town, but here he was finally. It was the first thing he had done to check on his old friends. Thorfinn had learned from him that another fellow mate from their year back at Hogwarts, Anthony Rickett, and the Hufflepuff's girlfriend from back then, Heidi Macavoy, were well and worried for Thorfinn also. The three males used to be tight mates, all years back.

It was their families that prevented Anthony or Cassius from getting involved in the war. They were the neutral bunch. Not to mention, both of his friends had been abroad while all hell broke loose.

Anthony, for example, had gone to Canada to further his education on potions. He was one of the rare Hufflepuffs who was not terrorized by Snape. He had even gotten himself a recommendation letter.

Warrington said they'd meet up once Thorfinn got better. Till then he and Anthony would take turns visiting him. Something that had made Thorfinn teary even though he had blamed the dust in the room when Warrington inquired.

"And leave you alone with your personal nurse?" His best mate's obnoxiousness brought Thorfinn to here and now.

Warrington and his over enthusiastic mind! Thorfinn was a barely recovered man, and it was only natural that a nurse was assigned to him so that he wouldn't die on his own during his house arrest.

"Want me to help you bleed internally, too? Perhaps you'd want a few broken ribs while I'm at it?" Thorfinn snickered, both former Slytherins enjoying their little bickering. "Nurse Bones would gladly heal the cut on your lips, or tear it in half. Her choice."

"Funny, mate."

Thorfinn had been sleeping through Nurse Bones' shifts the past two days, but apparently Warrington had been wide awake. He'd been ecstatic at the news that she would care for Thorfinn in the following week at the Rowle Castle.

"You feeling good to go?" Warrington asked sometime later. He had signed the papers for his discharge.

Thorfinn would rather they won't leave, but he had to return home. It wasn't easy to prepare himself for the blow in the stomach when he once again faced the fact that his house was completely empty.

No Eadric. No Dammy.

Just a big empty house.

"More or less," Thorfinn groaned. Returning home was becoming a much more harder of a task with each passing moment.

What was he going to do now? He felt unsurprisingly lost.

"I know that look, Rowle." Thorfinn looked up at Warrington. "Just take it one at a time."

 _What would he know about it?_ Thorfinn flared at the thought of Warrington's blissfully unburdened life. He had not fought in the war. He had not killed, starved, lost those who were dear to him. He felt no danger whatsoever, hanging above his neck like that of the giyotin.

Thorfinn gritted his teeth and tried to remain calm. Warrington would not understand. He simply wouldn't.

"Let's go," Thorfinn changed the subject instead.

He was put in a wheelchair, waiting for Warrington to deal with the last of the paperwork as they stood in the hallway that had the fireplaces at the far corner.

Thorfinn sighed when a thought occurred to him. He had shut the floo network of the Rowle Castle.

Only way in would be Apparating but he was in no shape for the trip. Side-Apparition included.

"We can't use the floo," Thorfinn informed Warrington. His friend looked sideways at him, his brows creased as if he read his mind. Warrington was always quick to come to conclusions. And he was most of the time right with them.

"Going there the Muggle way?"

At that the secretary behind the desk interfered with their conversation. Thorfinn was under arrest, after all. She had to inform the Ministry to arrange transportation and assign Aurors while they were at it.

"No, need. We can call a cab."

"That is not an option-"

The secretary's words died immediately at the sight of the speaker.

The witch looked better than he had last seen her, but it would have made no difference to Thorfinn. It was Granger. The same wild hair, the same jutted chin and a look at her face that challenged everything and everyone.

Those were among the few features that would never change about her. Just like his own smirk.

"Darling, came to take me away?" Thorfinn shot her way, all too smug that the witch was indeed involved in his small world. What were the chances that her path crossed with his?

"Oh, shut it." Granger rolled her eyes. "Warrington."

Her greeting of Warrington, though, had caught the two of them off guard. She knew him?

"Order of Merlin, First Class. Hermione Jean Granger," the witch introduced herself to the paled secretary. "I'll escort Mr. Rowle. Inform the Ministry all the same, tell them that I'm on top of this case."

Thorfinn couldn't help himself. "Are you? I'd rather enjoy that-"

Granger coughed to hush him, her cheeks slightly tinted pink.

Afterwards, the three of them exited St. Mungo's and called a cab. A silent drive to the Rowle Castle awaiting them.


End file.
